The Single Girl
by Miss Romance-Lover
Summary: When you're reaching the age of thirty, you're single and have an interfering mother to deal with, life has it's complications. Especially when you're prone to clumsy and embarrassing moments. But then a new, blue-eyed neighbour comes into Gabi's life...NOW COMPLETE!
1. Always Retrieve Drunkenly Placed Items

**Hey guys! Thank you all for the amazing reviews I got for Absent With Love :) So glad you enjoyed it. Here is the first chapter of my new story. It's written as Gabriella's personal thoughts – not quite a diary, just the things that go through her mind throughout each day.**

**Hope you like it! **

The Single Girl

Okay. Right. I should _not _be panicking. Yet.

It's only 8.17am. The bus isn't due until 8.40; I _will _find my purse before then.

Arrrgh! Just found the sunglasses I was looking for last summer. Why is it that all lost items only ever turn up six months later? It's just...ooh, wait, there's that book I was looking for the other day...

No. Must not get distracted. Am going to be late for work!

8.25. Oh, God. I should have known that doing that major spring clean yesterday was a bad idea. At least before, I knew where everything was. But then why didn't I put my purse back in my bag while tidying? Why would I put it anywhere else?

Emergency call to Sharpay needed.

**._HSM._**

"Shar, quick, If you were me, where would you put your purse during a spring clean?"

My best friend, to her credit, managed not to laugh out loud upon hearing about my blonde moment.

"Have you been out at all since Saturday night?" she asked calmly, whilst I, meanwhile, glanced anxiously at the time.

I thought for a second. "No..."

"Well in that case, I believe I saw you put it in the kitchen cupboard when we got in at 2am. I think you were getting a glass of water or something. Anyway, I'm guessing it's still there if you haven't used it since."

My mind went back to the night before last, when Sharpay had stayed at my flat after our night out. Come to think of it, I _was_ a bit tipsy. As anyone would be after several glasses of wine...

Phone still in hand, I raced over to the specified cupboard and, lo and behold, there was my purse.

Alright, so I didn't bother tidying the kitchen cupboards, obviously.

"Couldn't you have told me about this before?" I asked, even though I was wasting more precious time.

"I suppose so," she replied in amused tones. "But I thought it would be funny if you discovered it yourself."

And it probably would have been if I wasn't about to be late for work. Either that, or it would have been a painful reminder about the crazy things I do while drunk.

So, anyway, I made it out for the bus after running down the road at top speed.

The bus is packed this morning. Also, the driver must be new. At least on this route, anyway. Never seen him before. All the usual bus drivers around London tend to be older. This one is quite young. My age, perhaps.

Hmm. I must admit, he has very nice eyes. Lovely smile...doesn't strike me as the bus-driving type.

Ah well. It'll probably be another driver tomorrow anyway.

Time for work...

**.**_**HSM.**_

Mad rush of a day. Everyone seems to want their hair done all at once. I still love it; it's never dull working in a salon. But I'm exhausted and it's only Monday.

On top of that, arrived home to an answer phone message from my mother. This might be a good thing if it weren't for the fact that:

a) Most of the time she is in a world of her own, and;

b) she is constantly trying to find me what she refers to as a 'suitor'.

Apparently it is not normal to be unmarried or single at 29. I already know this – she does not have to remind me on a regular basis.

Her message went like this:

"_Hi, Gabriella dear, it's Mum." _You know, just in case I didn't recognise her voice or something.

"_I'm just calling to remind you about the dinner party on Friday for your father's company." _My dad is the managing director of an Architecture company. Our whole family home was designed by him (with plenty of input from Mum, naturally.)

"_Don't forget, it starts at 7pm. Wear something nice; there are quite a few young bachelors attending you know!" _End of message.

Oh God. Don't want to go to hideously boring dinner just so mum can play matchmaker again. But how to get out of it? _How? _

Oh well. Will think up an excuse later.

**._HSM._**

Was just settling down to watch the soaps when the phone rang. I prayed it wasn't mum again and picked up.

"Hey Gabs, can you check your handbag for one of my wine glasses?" Oh _ha ha_.

It was Ryan, Sharpay's twin brother and my other best friend. He waited all of two seconds after his opening remark before laughing down the phone to me. Well, _at_ me.

"Hilarious, thanks Ry. Does your sister tell you everything?"

"Not _everything_. Just the stuff that will keep me entertained," he answered, still laughing lightly.

"Great. So is that all you rang for?" Frankly, I would rather have got back to the TV than be mocked for my friend's open amusement.

"No - I have news! I met this guy today...I think he's the one!"

I sighed at how dramatic he was being about this already. But then this _was_ Ryan; I was used to it. "You've only known him a day and you already know he's Mr Right?" I asked sceptically.

"Yes! I'm telling you, this one'll be different," he insisted before hanging up. I recalled him saying this about his last boyfriend – who turned out to be a two-timing rat...

But whatever. Maybe I shouldn't be one to judge. For one thing, I haven't even _met_ the new guy yet. And for another, I don't even have a man myself.

What a miserable thought. Perhaps I'm destined to be single for the rest of my life.

At this rate I'm starting to think that Mum and Dad's dinner party might actually be a good idea...

No. No! Am not that desperate. Surely not.

Anyway, why would I want to go out with an architect? We'd have nothing in common.

This is simply _not_ happening. There's got to be something more interesting for me to do on Friday night. Anything that doesn't involve matchmaking for the almost thirty.

'Almost thirty' - why must my brain latch on to these thoughts? That was worse than the last one. Besides, will not be turning the dreaded 3-0 for another six months.

I suppose that gives me half a year to find someone myself before my mother takes it upon herself to put an ad in the lonely hearts for me...

If ever there was an award for worst birthday present ever, _that _would take first...

Oh wait, is that the door? At 9pm at night?

**._HSM._**

Well, that was both unexpectedly pleasant, yet mortifying at the same time.

Opened the door to come face to face with the gorgeous blue-eyed bus driver from this morning.

"Well, hello again!" he smiled cheerfully as he recalled my familiarity. "I'm Troy – just moved into the flat below. I was just wondering...er...ahem, nice rollers."

Stood there flushed with embarrassment. Had completely forgotten my appearance – the standard attire for most of my week-nights.

Personally I think the pink dressing gown was far more cringe-worthy than the hair curlers.

Either way, not a good look for a first...er, _second_ impression.

Just my luck.

**So, what did you think? **

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	2. Never Lie To Your Mother

**First of all, thanks for such a great turn out of reviews for the first chapter!** **You all left me such lovely comments, and I know I always say this but they really do make my day guys :)**

**Just a quick disclaimer for the sake of this chapter: I do NOT own High School Musical; Bridget Jones or Gilmore Girls** :)

**Here is chapter two. Read on and enjoy!**

I resisted the urge to slam the door in horror. Wouldn't have been very polite. Besides, he seemed amused in a sweet sort of way; didn't appear to be mocking me.

"Erm...yeah, sorry about that!" I blurted out, touching one of my hair rollers self-consciously. "I'm Gabriella. Well, Gabi."

The man who had introduced himself as Troy held out his hand to shake mine, which I took with a smile.

"Gabi," he repeated with a grin. "Well, I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but as I said I've just moved in downstairs and the landlord never left me his number...It's sort of urgent that I get in touch with him."

"Anything I can help with?" I offered. A bit too quickly, I must admit.

"Ah, thanks, but...not unless you're a plumber?" he joked.

I think I actually let out a girlish giggle then. Second impression was not shaping up too well here.

"Right, yeah...in that case I'll just grab the number for you," I replied, leaving him at the door while I rushed around hastily, looking for my phone where the landlord's number is stored.

He was more than grateful when I gave him the details he needed. I almost didn't want to say goodbye, despite the disastrous fashion situation.

"You're a life saver, thanks so much!" Troy had told me. "I'd better run. It was nice to meet you properly. I'll see you around, _neighbour_."

Then he was gone, and I shut the door still thinking about that smile and those eyes.

I'm still thinking about them now, to be honest.

Hmm, I wonder if he'll be driving the bus again tomorrow, given that he's now a local.

Hope so...

_**.HSM.**_

So the bus is late today. I have a client booked in for a perm first thing, and I'm still standing here waiting for a bus that may never show.

Why did I never learn to drive? I could have been up and out within seconds instead of relying on public transport.

Oh, yeah. It's because I'm accident prone (though, luckily, not when it comes to cutting hair); and I'm always losing things.

Aha! _Here_ it is!

Can't hide my disappointment. Troy isn't driving the bus today. This is silly of me really. I'm guaranteed to bump into him again. He lives in my building, after all.

What is up with me today? I've only had one real conversation with the man and here I am obsessing over him already.

Right. Work. Must focus on hair now. The customers' hair, obviously – not my own.

_**.HSM.**_

Imagine my embarrassment when, after finishing a lady's colour, my manager came over to tell me that my mother had just phoned the salon for me. And it wasn't exactly a thrilling social call.

"Gabi, your mum just rang to remind you about a 'special' dinner party on Friday?" Dani informed me with a curious smile that did not go unnoticed.

At this point, I just rolled my eyes and reluctantly made a mental note to ring mum back when I got home. But apparently that wasn't the end of the message.

"Erm," Dani had added after a pause. "She also said to remind you to make an effort with your appearance if you want to win over all the male attention..."

Arrrgh!

Thank you, mother. Thank you for making me look like the desperate singleton that I secretly am.

Not to mention the delightful comment about how I look. _What's wrong with my appearance?_

After picking my jaw up off the floor, I still couldn't think how to respond. Luckily for me, Dani has known me for years and I did not need to offer her an explanation for my mother.

I was still mortified, though. And I _still_ hadn't uttered a word.

"Gabs? You okay?"

"Oh! Yeah, yeah..." I finally blurted out; all the while thinking: _'NO! I'm just waiting for the ground to swallow me up!'_

"So, going out on the pull on Friday then?" she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Dani!" I moaned, despite letting out an involuntary giggle because I should have expected this from her. She may be my boss and the salon owner, but we're also really good friends alongside that.

In a sense, she's similar to my mother in that they both encourage me to get on the dating circuit. Danielle is only a year older than me and is happily married, but she still manages to come on nights out every so often. And believe me, she's the first one to push me in the direction of what she calls a 'potential boyfriend'.

Translated that usually means what I like to call a 'drunken flirtatious moron'.

I know not all men are like that; really I do. But I can't just go up to some random guy in a club and start talking to them like Dani seems to think I should.

Even if I _am_ currently thinking up plausible excuses to approach that gorgeous new neighbour with the nice eyes.

But anyway, where was I? Oh right, my interrogation.

"There won't be any 'pulling' of any kind," I told Dani. "It's a party for my dad's company, but you know what my mum's like – she'll probably keep me chatting to every single man in the room for the whole night."

She laughed, then paused in thought. "So go along and be all mysterious - pretend you've already found a man," she announced with a grin.

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "What brought that on? I was expecting you to tell me to mingle and meet someone!"

"Yeah, but this sounds like a bit of an ambush; I reckon you can have some fun with it," she winked at me.

Hmm. Maybe she has a point there...

Anyway, still haven't phoned mum back. Haven't decided what to do about Friday yet, either. Oh well, it's too late to do anything about it now. Maybe I'll just get myself a glass of...ah! Uh oh, it's the phone...

_**.HSM.**_

So, despite my thinking that it was already too late to make any calls myself (in a futile attempt to excuse myself for not calling my mother); who should be on the line when I answered the phone but the woman herself?

"Hello dear, it's your mother," was her greeting.

"Um, hi mum. How are you?" Yes, I was stalling here.

Unfortunately she was already cutting straight to the point. "Now then, you _are _coming to the dinner party on Friday, aren't you? Only I was a bit concerned you hadn't returned my calls. Your father and I thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth!"

_No, _I thought. _I was just avoiding giving you an answer. It's not like I'm approaching thirty and should know better, or anything..._

"Oh, did you ring then?" I said aloud, wondering whether I could get away with that. The answer was, I couldn't.

"Now don't be so careless, darling. Don't you check your answering machine?"

Before I could reply, she had moved back to the main topic. "So, we need to sort out what you're going to wear, don't we? Now let's see, do you have a nice dress or something..."

_I'm twenty-nine years old! _I wanted to wail in despair at her. _I can choose my own outfit!_

I do love my mother, really I do. It's just that sometimes it seems as though she still thinks I'm about twelve.

And I hadn't even agreed to come to the party yet.

However, it didn't seem like I was going to get a word in edgewise during this particular conversation.

So I thought back to Dani's earlier suggestion and just went with it, before I could stop myself.

Mum had just hit on the subject of my potential 'suitors' when I blurted it out impulsively.

"Actually mum, I've already met a man."

It wasn't a lie though, was it? I mean, I met Troy. He's a man.

"You've met a man? And _where_ was this?" She sounded almost offended that this had happened completely without her knowledge.

"Er, well, he's local, new to the area. It's early days, but I just thought I'd better let you know in case you wonder why I'm not mingling with all the single men."

I was feeling that strange kind of state you get into when you're half proud and half ashamed for lying.

And then I well and truly learnt my lesson.

"Well then, that's marvellous!" exclaimed my mother. "You can bring him along to the party so we can meet him!"

Disaster. Note to self: never lie to your mother; it gets you nowhere. Correction – it lands you in a big mess.

I have now agreed not only to attend the dinner, but also to bring my 'new boyfriend' along too.

I could have said I couldn't come. I could have said that the fake boyfriend was busy. I could have got out of this ridiculous situation in various different ways.

I am a total moron. And I now have two thoughts running through my mind along with a big headache:

I have to come up with a pretend, yet very convincing boyfriend within the next three days, and;

My mother is like both Lorelai Gilmore's and Bridget Jones's mothers rolled into one person.

Now which is the scariest thought here?

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	3. Mind Your Own Feet

**I am so happy with the response to this story! Thank you all for your reviews guys :) A few of you have been reviewing me since my first story, which means a lot! **

**Shout out to **Angkeats **too for all her comments; are you all reading her fab latest story **Tomboy**? **

**Here is chapter three. Enjoy... **

I woke up this morning thinking, "ah, Wednesday...the week's half over," in that way we are all guilty of. You know, when you're really longing for the weekend to hurry up and get here.

Then I remembered last night's phone call. I have two days in which to find a man willing enough (and crazy enough) to be my date for Mum and Dad's dinner.

Although it's a bit worse than that, isn't it? I claimed I'd be bringing a new boyfriend. At least if I'd said 'date' I could have turned up with anyone and brushed off a few intrusive questions.

Anyway, my point is that the moment I reminded myself of my dilemma, my day was set to be a bad one.

The bus was late again (and _again_, my new neighbour wasn't driving it); and then every time a guy came into the salon for a haircut today I found myself analysing them.

No, really, I did.

I kept up my stylists' front; making general polite, professional conversation, all the while secretly wondering whether I might be brave enough to...well, ask one of them out.

I know; I've gone mental.

I don't think I was ever actually going to do it. How would that have gone, exactly?

"_That's your hair all done, sir. Now, fancy escorting me to a dinner party __on Friday night at my parents' house?"_

But what other choice have I left myself? I'm _not_ phoning mum back to tell her I'm a sad pathetic liar.

God, this is embarrassing. I may have to phone someone for help...

Maybe Dani would be the best choice, seen as she was the one to suggest this pretence in the first place. I'm sure that the idea of actually _producing_ a fake boyfriend out of thin air wasn't quite what she meant, though.

I think I need some wine before I pick up the phone for confession time...

_**.HSM.**_

Well, Dani must be off out somewhere with her husband, because there was no answer when I rang.

So, before I could tell myself I might regret it; I dialled Sharpay's number instead.

"Oh, my God, Gabs," she announced into the phone after a brief fit of laughter that had been expected. "The messes you get yourself into. So what are you gonna do?"

"Who knows? I was hoping you might, though," I replied glumly.

She was unusually quiet on the line and I didn't know what was going through her mind – other than the obvious fact that I am a first class moron, I expect.

Finally she let out a breath to speak again. "What about that dishy new neighbour you told me about?"

Call me clueless, but I didn't catch on. "You mean Troy? What about him?"

Shar simply sighed at me. "Ask _him_," was all she said back.

Why did I not think of that before? Like earlier on when I was staring at potential candidates at work?

I mean, Troy is at least somebody I've _met_ before. He even lives in my building!

The only thing I can say in defence of my own stupidity is that I think I was blinded by my previous thoughts of him. Asking him just hadn't crossed my mind. When you meet someone you like, you don't want to scare them off by asking them to do you a favour like this, do you? Because it's not a favour that's in the same league as, say, passing along the landlord's phone number.

This was what I was pondering over on the phone, while Sharpay was clearly waiting for me to gush with gratitude at her brilliant idea.

As it was, all I said back was, "I can't."

"Why not?" she asked bluntly. "You know him; you _like_ him..."

"When did I say I liked him?" I shot back suspiciously, and she laughed.

"Well, you didn't. But you _did_ tell me he was gorgeous."

I didn't remember saying that, either. My silence told her exactly what I'd been thinking.

"If you didn't say that much, then how would I know to call him 'dishy' just now?" she asked coyly.

I'd just assumed she was guessing, I suppose. But apparently I must have unconsciously confessed my attraction to Troy at some point in the last few days.

Troy, my new neighbour. Troy, who I've only ever seen twice in my life and only really spoken to for a total of five minutes. Maybe I'm basing my opinion of him purely on his looks?

He really seemed quite lovely, though...

Anyway, I didn't give Sharpay an answer to her latest question; leaving her to very smugly keep on with her suggestion.

"So then, isn't it better to take this Troy along on Friday night? It would only be half a lie to tell, that way. You wouldn't be lying about fancying him..."

I groaned out loud. "Shar, that just makes me sound like a teenager with a crush! Besides, I honestly think it'd be worse if I asked him to come with me."

"Why?"

"Because I barely know him! He'll think I'm a nutter," I sighed.

Sharpay pretended to think this statement over for a bit. "Hmm, well you have told your mum you've got a new man when you haven't, so maybe you _are_ a nutter. But these things can be fixed, Gabs. I'm not saying you should just walk up to him and randomly ask him out. Get chatting to him between now and Friday. See what happens."

"You mean lure him into liking me, only to use him for my own gains when I drag him to my parents' torturous dinner?" That sounded like a more accurate description to me. And there's no way I'd treat someone like that.

And not just because I actually happen to like Troy.

"God Gabi, it sounds terrible when you put it like that! I didn't mean you should use him, you know. Just that you could get to know him, ask him to do you a favour...and then go out with him for real later on!"

Ridiculous. I could never hope for a plan like that to work out well. Nobody starts out a potential relationship by introducing the man to her parents!

He'd run a mile after spending half an hour with mine, anyway.

I relayed all this to Sharpay before I hung up, but she just kept telling me to think about it.

I think I've had enough advice for one night. I need to get some sleep before my head explodes.

And I didn't even get past half a glass of wine, so I know that's not the reason my mind feels the way it does right now.

_**.HSM.**_

It turns out my head wasn't just aching with too many thoughts going on up there. It's 6am and I've woken up to a pounding headache. I'm glad I didn't get a chance to polish off that wine last night, otherwise I'd be nursing a guilty hangover.

Okay. I just stood up to grab a painkiller, and now I feel even worse. Walking around made me feel dizzy. I'm going to have to call Dani. Maybe one of the other girls will be able to take my clients for the day...

Right. That's done. Dani was absolutely fine on the phone (I didn't bother telling her I'd called last night. Glad I didn't leave a message).

I hate calling in sick, though, even when the boss is a friend of mine. But I haven't felt this ill in while and I haven't taken a day off in even longer, so I don't know why I'm worrying about it.

If anything, this could work out in my favour. Can't go to Mum and Dad's dinner party in this state, now can I?

Sorry about that, mother.

Ouch...laughing triumphantly to myself wasn't the best idea. That really hurt my head.

I can't enjoy having my dilemma solved for me, anyway. Feeling too terrible even to move...

Oh stop thinking so much, Gabriella. Go back to sleep!

_**.HSM.**_

Just woken up again and it's almost midday. Headache seems to be gone now.

This is good for the sake of being pain-free...not so good in terms of getting out of tomorrow's dinner.

Oh God. That's tomorrow.

Probably shouldn't think about it for now. It might make the headache come back.

I need to eat something, then maybe I'll see if I can make it into work for the rest of the day.

I know, I'm mad. I must be the only person in the world who won't go through with a sick day.

...Or at least _tries_ not to. Just sent Dani a text to tell her I'm feeling better and might come in after all. This is what her reply said:

_Don't even think about it. You sounded awful this morning. You're having the whole day off to rest, no arguments! D. x_

Bless her. More concerned with my well-being than with the fact that my absence has left her short-staffed.

What to do now, though? In the traditional manner of an ill person, I have just eaten some soup.

As a result I now have some energy to spare. Hmm...

God, the flat's a mess. That's it, I'm getting the bin bags out to do a clear out. There's so much rubbish that I don't need around here. I just need to remember not to put important items in new places, as Monday morning demonstrated that this was a bad idea.

I am fully aware that this latest thought process depicts me as a sad person. I've been told to relax, yet here I am about to clean my flat.

But it takes my mind off of certain issues, such as events I have promised to go to.

Because I've tried declining one of my mother's invitations through illness before. She's not stupid. There's a good chance she'd even come over and take my temperature herself before accepting that I was indeed too unwell to come to dinner.

_**.HSM.**_

Right, so I now have to lug two heavy bags full of rubbish and generally unwanted crap all the way downstairs to get to the skip.

Did not think this through.

Going to work would have been easier by far.

Okay, I've reached the top of the stairs. Here we go...

"Arrrgh!" Well done, Gabi. You've just tripped over your own feet.

And yet the bags of rubbish are still intact. I'm just lucky the first half of the staircase only consists of about three steps. I've landed in an untidy heap in the corner.

"Hey, you okay down there?" someone's just shouted.

Fantastic. An audience.

"Um...yeah, I think so..." I really ought to try and move if I want to prove my words to be true. I can hear footsteps coming closer now, but I haven't yet moved my head in their direction to see who they belong to.

"Gabi?"

Oh no. It's Troy. What a lovely third meeting _this_ will be...

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	4. Don't Forget Your Keys

**Thank you once again for the lovely reviews, everyone! :) **

**Finally got round to editing this, having written the chapter last week. So here it is...enjoy!**

Well, I don't really know how to sum up the rest of the day.

Humiliation had just taken a step further as the man with the beautiful eyes had spotted me lying in a heap on the staircase...

"Gabi? It's Troy, can you move at all?"

After realising who my witness was, I finally staggered to my feet to find that he was now right in front of me, staring in concern. "I'm okay...thanks," I managed to answer warily.

"Are you sure? You might have sprained or broken something..." he really seemed to care as he said the words; something which made me temporarily forget about the painful bruises forming on my legs from the fall. In that moment I was just caught by the genuine look in his eyes.

"Thank you Troy, but honestly, I'm fine. I'm sorry you had to see one of my clumsiest moments, though," I replied, stretching out a bit so I could prove I really was okay.

"_One_ of?" he picked up on my words with a hint of a playful smile on his lips. "Is this a regular occurrence for you, then? Falling down stairs..."

I hadn't even realised quite how upfront I'd just been with him. I'd practically just confessed that my life was one big collection of calamities and accidents.

Which it is.

But usually I would try and save face somehow. And today, in front of Troy; I hadn't done that.

He didn't seem to care, though.

"Well..." I answered with a smile. "Maybe tomorrow I'll be falling _up_ the stairs instead. It varies."

He chuckled, and I laughed back before turning around to look for the discarded bin bags I had just dropped. Troy seemed to spot them just as I did, and before I could say anything else he had gone to grab them for me.

"To the skip, right?" he asked with a grin.

"Erm...yeah, thanks," was all I could say as I watched him stride easily down the steps and towards the front door.

On the way, Troy turned to look at me briefly, as though expecting me to take another tumble. It was a fair assumption, of course. But luckily it didn't happen. I followed him silently, shamelessly admiring his muscles as he swung the bags of rubbish over his shoulders effortlessly.

We stopped at the skip and he tossed the bags into them; dusted his hands off and then looked at me again with a warm smile.

"Thanks," I said in a small voice. I felt ridiculously shy now and I didn't know why.

Well, okay. I did know why. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that everything about him still had me transfixed.

"No problem," he replied. "Got any other bags to bring down?"

It was another genuine, kind remark. I got the feeling that Troy would actually have willingly obliged if I'd just said, "yeah I've got ten more to chuck out if you're offering..."

But obviously I was now done with my clear-out and, I hoped, my dysfunctional moments for the rest of the day. Or at least for the next few minutes that I'd be in his company...

"No, that was everything," I told him. I stopped myself from repeating a thank you for what felt like the hundredth time.

"So..." he began again softly. "I'm thinking maybe I'd better escort you back to your flat? You know, just to make sure you get back in one piece."

His tone was teasing and his eyes were brighter than ever. I couldn't help but stand there and laugh at _myself_ as well as his friendly jibe.

"I think it's only sensible of me to take you up on that," I agreed, trying and failing to straighten my face.

Troy gallantly offered me his arm, as though we were two teenagers making an entrance at the school prom.

I grinned anyway and let him lead me inside.

Unfortunately at this point, my luck turned against me again. I suppose it never really was on my side at all, though.

We got to the door of my flat, and it was only when I reached for my handbag out of habit that I remembered it wasn't with me.

Therefore neither were my keys.

I had locked myself out.

_**.HSM.**_

Sometimes, I can hardly believe my own stupidity. But I think today's latest incident showcased it particularly well.

"Er..." I began when I realised he was staring at me, waiting for me to head inside no doubt. I was trying to work out whether I could avoid admitting what I'd managed to do.

But it was impossible. I didn't even have my phone with me. I needed Troy's help again.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Ah. I've...been a bit of a moron and locked my keys inside the flat," I explained, my hands covering my eyes in embarrassment.

"Oh," he replied in understanding. "You're really not like the average neighbour, are you?" He didn't sound like this fact bothered him too much. It certainly bothered _me_ how many problematic situations I ended up in these days.

"I'm afraid not. Sorry. But if it's any consolation, I don't play loud music or throw wild parties. You'll be left in peace once I'm back in my flat."

Troy narrowed his eyes for a second, eyeing me with intrigue. "You...do know I wasn't complaining, don't you?" he asked gently.

I nodded. I'd been joking too, but he seemed to have taken my reply seriously.

"Come on, we'll go and get the landlord's number from my place," he said kindly, turning to walk back from the direction we'd come in. I followed him sheepishly, awkwardly.

I had no inhibitions about entering the home of someone who was still a virtual stranger to me. None at all. I felt at ease in his presence already, and I took that as a good thing.

My awkwardness was due only to how self-conscious I felt. Which _wasn't_ a good thing at all.

He let us both into his flat, and I stood waiting as he did a quick search for the phone number I needed and, let's face it, the number that I really do need to memorise one of these days...

Within minutes he had offered me the use of his phone. I didn't get an answer from the landlord, so had to settle for leaving him a voice mail asking to borrow his copy of the flat key. I would just have to wait around now, until he turned up.

It's a very good job I don't need to worry about impressing the landlord. I think I'm a decent enough tenant; most of my disasters don't usually come under his radar. Mostly because he's not around enough to notice!

"Not answering his phone?" Troy appeared from his kitchen as I hung up, carrying two cans of lemonade. He rose one of them in the air, silently asking if I liked the drink, and I nodded before answering his original question.

"No," I answered, rolling my eyes. "Could have predicted that I wouldn't be able to get hold of him, I suppose."

"Yeah, he doesn't sound like the most reliable landlord?" he guessed, raising his eyebrows.

"That's one way to put it," I agreed as he handed me the lemonade. "I take it you had trouble getting hold of him yourself the other day?"

He nodded. "Well, I phoned him on Monday night and I didn't get a call back until yesterday morning, so..."

"Hmm...sorry, wish I'd warned you about him when I gave you the number now. I was a bit distracted at the time," I winced, remembering how he'd clocked me in my dressing gown and hair rollers.

Troy caught my eye and let out an amused chuckle. Obviously he hadn't forgotten that first introduction, then...

I found myself chuckling back when I saw that he was laughing _with_ me, not at me. Then he gestured for us to sit down, walking over to the sofa.

"You know," he suddenly announced. "I just realised I haven't even asked you anything about yourself yet, and we've now met each other _how_ many times?"

_Three, including that bus journey..._

But I wasn't going to answer his question, as though I was keeping count or something.

Because that is so _not_ what I've been doing so far.

"Well," I replied. "You tell me about yourself, and then I'll answer _your_ questions."

"Ah, I see how it is," he joked. "Okay then. Now...how to make myself sound like an interesting person..."

I laughed again while Troy rested his chin in his hand thoughtfully.

"You already know I'm a bus driver. But I assure you, my main goal in life is much less boring."

"Oh really? What's that, then?" I asked curiously.

"I'll tell you that if you let me in on what _you_ do for a living," he bargained cheekily.

"Hey, that wasn't part of the deal!" I argued as he winked at me. I was very aware that I was still grinning like an idiot, but I was having too much fun to care. "Alright, fine. I'm a hairdresser. And I never wanted to do anything else, to be honest."

"I think that's great. It took me ages to realise what I really wanted to do. I wish I'd had enough passion for the right career years ago."

Now he was intriguing _me_. I was really interested to hear what his passion was.

"So what career _do_ you want, then? You have to tell me now!"

He smiled, his eyes twinkling at me. "I'm actually working my way towards becoming an Architect. At the moment I'm just an assistant, so I've been on the buses part time as well, just to pay the bills."

Oh. My. God.

For years my mother has been doing her utmost to get me interested in dating one of the young, single employees at my father's company.

And it turns out that my new neighbour, who I am actually interested in...well, I don't even need to finish that thought process.

Ironic, or just a coincidence?

"My father owns an Architecture company..." I managed to utter, still stunned.

"You're kidding!" Troy was just as surprised, if his tone was anything to go by. "What's his name?"

At this point I could have written the script for what was about to happen.

"Richard Montez," I told him.

"That's my boss!" He looked totally astounded.

"Blimey..." I sighed. I sat there trying to recall whether my dad had ever mentioned an assistant called Troy. But I hadn't discussed his work with him recently.

And then another thought struck me. "So, you've been invited to the dinner party tomorrow night?" Although I was making an assumption, I couldn't imagine that he wasn't to be included as one of the eligible bachelors my mother had in mind for me.

"Yeah, I'm going. Ah, it's at your dad's house!" he exclaimed. Seemed he had only just worked that one out. "I can't believe you're his daughter. Will you be there too, then?"

Given that my headache hadn't lasted, I had no excuse not to go anymore. Besides, if Troy was going to be there...all of a sudden this dinner party didn't sound half as bad as I'd originally thought.

Except for one small detail.

My parents think I have a boyfriend.

And so I looked Troy in the eye and decided to tell him the truth. I know, it really does seem like I went mad, spouting out all this humiliating information about myself.

But if I didn't tell him, I'd have had to let him think I really was taken. And above all else, I certainly did not want _him_ to think _that_.

"I was sort of ambushed into agreeing to go, actually," I explained. "My mum wanted to use the dinner as an excuse to pair me up with a 'nice young bachelor'. I told her I already had a boyfriend..."

"Oh. Right," I watched his face react to my words. Was it my imagination, or did he look...disappointed?

"Erm...I _don't_ have a boyfriend, Troy. I sort of dug myself into a hole with that one because now she wants me to turn up with my imaginary partner and...oh God, why am I telling you all this? You really don't need to know my life story. Sorry."

My feelings of self-consciousness had returned and I knew that I sounded like a sad spinster.

"Gabi?" His voice broke the silence that followed my ramblings.

"Yeah?"

"I'll be your partner for the night."

This was my initial reaction: "..."

But it seemed he wasn't quite finished yet as he flashed those gorgeous blue eyes at me. "So...what do you reckon, neighbour? How about this for a plan: fake boyfriend, but _real_ date?"

Once I'd picked my jaw up off the floor, I could only nod back in shock and delight.

So now I have a new partner in crime to keep my mother at bay. Also, I have discovered I like an Architect - despite previously thinking that any man with a job like my father's would bore me to tears.

And if I hadn't just retold that whole story to myself, I'd swear it was just a strange, surreal dream.

**Hope you liked chapter four!**

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	5. Introducing Your Fake Boyfriend

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**Here's chapter five...enjoy!**

So, it's Friday. Only a few hours left until I must face my parents at dinner tonight...

I'm glad to be going back to work first, though. Yesterday was so abnormal it was almost scary. Not that I didn't like the end result. A date with Troy!

After the landlord _finally_ returned my call last night and eventually turned up with a spare key, I rang Dani to tell her never to give me a sick day ever again. Work seems to be the only place I am safe from clumsy moments.

However, once I let slip what had happened with Troy, she was much more interested in _that_.

As was Sharpay, who called to find out if I'd plucked up the courage to ask him anyway. Of course, the minute I told her the new plan, she took some of the credit for it. Quite how that works, when she had no idea Troy would turn out to be my father's employee, I really don't know.

"I told you if you got to know him then you could solve your problem!" she exclaimed excitedly. "_And _I said you might end up with a real date!"

She wants a full report on how tonight goes. Right now I can't think past what to wear, let alone how the rest of the evening will unfold.

Better get to the bus stop, anyway. Maybe I can ask Dani to lend me something classy to wear to dinner...

_**.HSM.**_

6.15pm and I'm finally ready after an odd sort of a day at work...

But anyway, Troy is 'picking me up' (i.e. walking up to my flat to get me) at 6.30pm, when he will be driving us over to my parents' house in his car.

I'm going to stop looking in the mirror to check if I look okay now. No doubt my mother will find the time to nag me later if a hair is out of place somewhere...

Dani explained that my outfit didn't have to be anything too formal. Her husband, Andy, is a barrister; so she has experience with company dinner parties. She said that as long as I didn't try and get away with a 'clubbing-style' dress, anything in any colour would look perfectly suitable.

So I'm wearing my dark blue cocktail dress - something I bought a while back for a friend's birthday party. I've also got my best black heels on, and have piled my curly hair on top of my head in what I hope is at least a _half_-elegant manner.

Five minutes to go...

Oh my God. This isn't going to work, is it? Even if this is a real date, it's not a real relationship (yet?) and my mum will be able to spot me lying straight away.

Not sure if I can get away with this...

Then again, I also can't get away with _not_ going. And someone sane _actually_ wanted to accompany me – even if Troy does have to be at this party anyway. It's far too late to get cold feet now.

Ah! It's the door - he's here!

Time to get this 'show' on the road then I suppose...

_**.HSM.**_

If I'd been full of nerves _before_ leaving the flat, that was nothing compared to how I felt some minutes later.

Suddenly, I wasn't so anxious about what my parents were going to say any more. I was nervous about the date I was about to go on.

Because standing outside my door, Troy looked even more handsome (there is just _no_ other word for it) than any other time I'd set eyes on him throughout the week. He was dressed in smart evening wear; and his eyes twinkled, his face creased into that lovely smile.

He did not look like your average, boring businessman.

I was still staring at him wordlessly when he went to speak.

"Wow..."

That felt like it should have been _my_ line, to be honest. Which is why all I could say back was, "eh?"

Not very classy...

"Well," Troy replied, grinning at me. "It's just that you look..."

"Oh, God, I'm not dressed smartly enough for this thing, am I?" I couldn't help but interrupt him with an attack of paranoia.

His expression changed instantly, his features softening as he rushed to correct me. "No! No, that's not what I...I was just going to tell you that you look beautiful."

And I knew he meant it, too. I felt so embarrassed that I'd ruined what could have been a very sweet moment.

Well, it still _was_ a great moment for me. No man had ever said that to me before.

At least it had happened before I'd hit thirty...

"Oh...thank you," I managed to reply. "It's just that I never go to these kinds of parties so I..."

"Hey, don't worry about it. Tonight, I mean. It's going to be fine," he assured me, smiling kindly again.

By the time we'd made it to Troy's car, I had given myself a pep talk that involved strict instructions not to ramble on like an idiot.

The trouble was that because he kept putting me at ease, I felt more and more able to talk freely as time went on.

He asked me how my day had been, and I found myself telling him about the creepy customer I had today.

The man couldn't have been far from my age, I suppose. He just walked in for a hair cut without an appointment, and luckily for him I was free.

I wouldn't say it was quite so lucky for me, though...

Telling me his name was Tim, he'd droned on about how successful he was, running his own business. Then he had asked me if I was single, and whether I thought he was a catch!

Creepy, or just loved himself a bit too much? I wasn't really sure at the time, but I _was_ practically speechless.

So I just didn't answer. I carried on cutting his hair, occasionally dropping in the odd question about the style he wanted, and how much hair I was taking off.

'Tim' simply smirked into the mirror, and then made a point of writing his phone number down and leaving it on the desk for me "...just in case you decide you_ are_ interested after all."

Men like that are the reason I've ended up staying single as long as I have.

"Somebody _actually_ did that?" Troy asked incredulously when I'd finished relaying the story to him.

I nodded, then remembered he was busy driving, so I needed to give a him real answer.

"Unfortunately yes...why do men think that boasting will get them _anywhere_ with women?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you...but I'm embarrassed for my own kind," he replied. I saw him hiding a smile.

"Yeah, I wasn't including you in that generalisation," I told him with a laugh.

No sooner had I said that, than we had arrived on the road of my parents' house.

"So...you ready?" Troy said softly as he parked, and we both stepped out of the car.

I smiled back at him. "Only if you're sure you still want to be my date!"

I was only half joking.

"If that's the only thing you're worried about, then we don't have a problem," he grinned as we approached the front door.

I looked at him in awe as he managed to calm my jitters yet again.

Then, just as my finger hit the doorbell, the door opened abruptly and we were greeted by my mother, who was beaming from ear to ear.

Had she been watching our arrival from the window?

"Gabi darling, here you are at last!" she exclaimed a bit too dramatically. As far as I knew, we weren't late or anything. Clearly Mum had been so desperate to meet my 'new boyfriend' that she'd been waiting to pounce on the door the moment she spotted us outside.

"Mum, hi," I replied as she ushered us inside. I could see her giving Troy the once over as we stopped in the middle of the hallway.

I took that as my cue to make the introductions. The thing was, I wasn't sure whether my mother had met Troy before, given that he was working for my father. But neither he or mum were giving any indication that they _had_ seen each other before, so I decided to go ahead anyway.

"Mum, this is Troy," I said awkwardly. "And Troy, this is my mother, Maria Montez."

I smiled dutifully at her, and so did he as he offered his hand for her to shake while speaking. "Hello, nice to meet you!"

Mum took his hand after a moment of hesitation, but the smile on her face wasn't quite reaching her eyes, so I knew she wasn't satisfied yet.

Half a minute later, she proved me right. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your full name. Troy..." she enquired, shooting me a disapproving look because I hadn't included that vital piece of information myself.

Only then did it occur to me that I had never even found out Troy's surname.

Well, it had never come up. And he only knew mine now because it turned out he was one of my dad's employees.

Just as it appeared that he was about to clear up the mystery of the unknown last name, my father sidled up behind Troy and answered instead.

"Ah, Troy Bolton!" he boomed loudly, but cheerfully. Then he spotted me standing there, and looked back and forth between us for a moment. "Gabriella?"

I could see my dad trying to work out what exactly was going on, with his daughter and one of his assistants having arrived together.

"Yes, Richard," Mum said with a sigh. "It's Gabriella. You know, our only daughter?" She rolled her eyes exasperatedly, but I was surprised she hadn't caught on to the reason for Dad's confusion. "And this is her new boyfriend, Tr..."

"Yes, Maria dear, I do in fact know Troy rather well already. I did not, however, know that he was dating our daughter!" Although again his voice was echoing loudly across the hall, he didn't sound angry about the revelation – just completely puzzled.

Feeling uncomfortable on poor Troy's behalf as well as my own, I quickly cleared my throat. "Well Mum, it turns out that Troy is one of Dad's assistants at the company!"

I'd thought this might please her. _Or_ she'd just be annoyed about the fact that she hadn't been able to set me up with one of the employees here herself!

She looked a bit stunned, so I couldn't tell whether she was thrilled or otherwise just yet.

"He's also my new neighbour...that's how we met. What a coincidence, eh?" I gave a little chuckle, then stole a glance at Troy, who looked like he was trying not to laugh himself.

The funny thing was that so far, I hadn't even had to lie. Well, not directly, anyway. It was my mother who had referred to my date as my new boyfriend – I'd simply let the title stand without any corrections...

**And so the dinner party is 'to be continued' lol... **

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	6. How To Mingle

**Thanks for the lovely reviews once again, everyone! Here's chapter six :) The dinner party will go on for another few chapters, so hope you all enjoy it...**

Mum finally allowed herself to give Troy her proper hostess smile. It seemed she had accepted my explanation of him. "How lovely! Now then, come and take your coats off and we'll go through to the dining room."

She led us over to the coat rack, and I suddenly became aware that she was signalling to me with her eyes. She does that a lot, my mother. I just wish she'd remember that I will never be able to decipher her silent codes for as long as I live.

I looked away purposely and went to take Troy's coat, so I could hang it up along with my own. Just as he gave it to me, my father went to pat him on the back.

"So, you and my daughter are courting?" he asked, sounding a cross between stern and _almost _accepting.

I dared not even look at Troy; this was mortifying. _Courting?_ Surely that's something a father says to a young man who wants to go out with his _teenage_ daughter?

Not when said daughter is twenty-nine...and come to think of it, that word isn't even used in this century anymore, anyway.

I could only hold my breath in anticipation of what my poor defenceless date would say in response.

"Yes sir, we are," Troy replied calmly. "I hope I can gain your approval on that?" He actually sounded convincingly hopeful in his plea, and I let out my breath and finished hanging up our coats.

"Well, we shall see," Dad answered, but when I turned to spy the look on his face I could see he was smiling.

Something told me he already valued Troy within the business; so liking him outside of that wasn't going to be too hard.

"Gabi dear, come with me," Mum suddenly announced, taking me by the hand and leading me towards the kitchen.

I shot a look at Troy over my shoulder, and he smiled reassuringly back. He was still chatting to my father, looking perfectly happy.

As we entered the kitchen she led me to a quiet corner. Every other area was taken up by members of the catering team, who were busy preparing our impending dinner.

My parents spare no expense when it comes to entertaining. But I still manage to forget how wealthy the family is, because I choose not to live off of the money.

"Why didn't you feel the need to inform your father and I that you were dating one of his employees?" my mother asked immediately as we came to a standstill.

_Because technically I _haven't_ been dating him...and I didn't actually know he worked for Dad until last night..._

"I...thought it'd be a nice surprise if I told you tonight!" I explained brightly.

"Even though I'd told you more than once about all the single guests that were going to be here? Really, Gabi, you could have warned me!"

Ah. So she _was_ irritated about her plan being spoilt. I knew it...

"I thought you wanted me to meet a nice young man with a good career?" I replied, changing tact.

"I _did_!" said Mum impatiently.

"And I _have_. So does it really matter that I waited a little while to tell you? I wanted to see how things progressed between Troy and I before I got you all excited."

My fingers were crossed as I spoke. I felt a bit awful now that I'd gone into this, even though Troy had entered into the fake boyfriend plan knowingly _and_ willingly.

But even so, it was weird discussing the development of a relationship that didn't even exist. Despite the fact that the date we were on together wasn't part of the lie.

That was the only thing keeping me going as I stood there, waiting for my mother's reaction.

I watched as her face changed to an expression that almost resembled delight – to see _that_ from Mum meant that I was obviously much better at lying than I had suspected.

The problem now was, I was having scary visions of what she would be like in a few months' time. Asking me when a wedding date would be set, and other such questions.

Thankfully at that moment, she simply put on her best smile and ushered me out of the kitchen. "Well," she announced merrily. "Come along, the guests are already in the dining room with your father!"

I followed her obediently, waiting for her to direct me to where I was supposed to sit at the large table in the centre of the room. When she did so, I noticed that I had been placed directly opposite Troy, who was already sitting and chatting to the man on his left.

He caught my eye and smiled warmly at me, and I beamed back. I told myself to take a leaf out of his book and just relax.

Letting out a calming breath, I looked around to see if I knew anybody else at the table. Immediately I spotted Frank, my father's right hand man. He was sitting on the same side as Troy, only a few seats to the right. I gave him a warm smile, which he returned my way before picking up his drink.

Frank is about ten years older than my dad, and has been with the company since it was formed. Basically, he is second in command there, and is the man in charge if ever my father is unwell or away. That in itself is quite rare, because Dad is a self-confessed workaholic; but even so, Frank is still a hugely valued member of the company.

He's also one of the nicest people I've ever met – I'm always happy to see him, and he's been a good friend of the family for as long as he's worked with my dad.

I suddenly became aware that the seats either side of me had now been filled when I heard a woman clear her throat to my left. I turned my head and put on a smile. "Hi there," I began politely.

She smiled back at me, in just as friendly a manner as I had. "Hi! I'm Sophie Morris – I'm one of the wives," she told me, explaining her presence. She then gestured to the empty seat across from her, which was on Troy's right. "My husband just went to get our drinks."

"Oh right," I replied with a nod. "Well, it's good to meet you. I'm Gabi Montez."

Her eyes flashed in recognition as she took in the name I had given. "Ah, so..."

"Yeah. I'm the boss's daughter," I finished with a light chuckle, which she returned right before her attention was caught by someone approaching her.

"Oh _there_ you are darling, come and meet Gabi – Gabi Montez!" Sophie announced merrily. I looked up, ready to greet her husband - another of my dad's employees.

"Hello th..." my voice stopped in it's tracks when I came face to face with Tim, the creep who'd tried to chat me up at work earlier.

I'd never seen the blood drain from anyone's face quite as fast before as it registered with him just _who_ I was.

I decided not to feel daunted. He was the one that should have felt unnerved; and evidently he did.

"Hi there!" I tried again, smiling as brightly as I could.

Tim didn't respond; his face was still frozen on mine.

Sophie noticed his silence, but obviously had no inkling as to what was causing it. "Tim! What _is _the matter with you?" she asked impatiently.

"Sorry, I...here's your drink, sweetheart," he tactfully handed Sophie her glass. "Hello, lovely to meet you...Gabi."

_Yes, isn't it just? Smarmy, slimy, two-faced git..._

God, how I wanted to broadcast his little flirtation efforts right then and there. But I'd only just met his wife; only just seen _him_ for a second time. Was it really my place to say anything?

"You, too," I forced myself to utter, then looked away as he went to take his seat next to Troy.

I tried to catch the eye of my date, but he had turned to greet Tim himself.

And that's when I remembered something. That creep had told me, bold as brass, that he ran his own business! Yet here he was, portrayed quite blatantly as a member of my father's company.

So what was the man - a compulsive liar? A fantasist?

I couldn't bring myself to turn my head back in Sophie's direction, and neither did I allow myself to look at vile Tim again. Instead, I looked to my right and began chatting to a man called Stuart, who seemed pleasant enough.

Within the next few minutes our dinner was in front of us, and I was grateful not to have to make more small talk. I was just too distracted by my recent discovery.

The food was delicious, though. I was just digging into it (in my usual sophisticated manner, of course) when I felt a pair of eyes on me. They turned out to belong to Troy, so unfortunately he got to witness exactly what I look like when I'm starving – not attractive, I'm certain.

And yet he was smiling so intently at me that I'm sure I blushed.

It had been an awkward evening so far; yet not unsuccessful, as far as the original plan was concerned.

The thing was, the real date had become far more important to me than the fake boyfriend idea. I just did not want to be at this party, and it wasn't only because of that vile Tim.

I took my eyes away from Troy as I noticed my dad clearing his throat and rising from his seat at the head of the table. Our empty plates had just been taken away only seconds ago.

"Before we carry on, I wanted to say a few words," announced my father as he looked around the room at everyone's expectant faces. Mum sat beside him, and she too was transfixed. I wondered what was so crucial about this speech.

"First of all, thank you all for coming here this evening!" Dad continued pleasantly. "There is in fact a special reason behind this gathering. You all know that our own Frank Carlisle has been with our company since it's formation almost thirty-five years ago."

I glanced over at Frank, who had a reminiscent smile on his face. There was a general mumble of understanding around the table that showed everyone was, of course, aware of this. My father took a breath and continued his speech.

"Frank has asked that I would make an announcement tonight on his behalf – he will be retiring at the end of the year. He has been my vice president as well as a dear friend for just as long, so on a personal note this is a very sad occasion for me."

As soon as Dad had uttered the word 'retirement' in the same sentence as Frank, there had been a collective gasp amongst the guests – Troy and myself included.

I had always seen Frank as somebody who would work until his last day on earth; he seemed to love his job far too much ever to leave it. But I knew he was almost seventy by now. I only hoped there were no health issues behind his decision to take retirement.

While he had paused in order to let the news sink in, it appeared my father still had more to say. "I would now like to make a toast, if you would all raise your glasses?"

We all dutifully raised our drinks in the air.

"To Frank. I'm sure you will all join me in saying that we will miss his presence within the company!"

I heard another man, at the other end of table, shout out, "Hear, hear!" Meanwhile dear old Frank tipped his glass appreciatively in the air before taking a sip out of it. It was his quiet way of thanking the room for it's toast in his honour.

I looked over to meet Troy's eyes to see him looking wistful, and knew immediately that he too thought a lot of Frank. I sent him a small smile, and he matched it briefly before we turned back to look at my dad again. There was yet _more_ to be said.

"I was going to save this next announcement for another occasion, but Frank himself insisted that there was no need to postpone sharing it all with you. A decision has been made as to who will be following in his footsteps as our new vice president."

Literally every person in the room was hanging on my father's every word. I had no idea what the outcome would be. I knew absolutely nothing about his employees, except for the one who would soon be leaving.

And the creepy married man whose unknowing wife was sitting beside me...

"The person succeeding Frank on his retirement will be...Mr Tim Morris," Dad finished with a smile.

My jaw dropped while everyone else clapped to congratulate him – although Troy didn't look particularly enthralled by the latest piece of news either.

It all boiled down to this: my father's new right hand man had already proved himself to be a serial liar – albeit mainly about his personal life, but still.

Something told me there was an ulterior motive somewhere down the line. I mean, he liked to tell strangers he ran his own company! Is that what he thought this promotion was all about – taking over from Dad completely?

I watched Tim's face as he lapped up the attention, standing briefly to say thank you with a big grin on his face. That is, until he spotted me, and a look of mute horror crossed his eyes before he looked away again.

Judging by his reaction, it seemed I had the power to destroy his little moment. But the only way it would be appropriate for me to do that would be if I thought he was a serious risk to my dad's company.

To be quite honest, I didn't have a clue what to do now. So I just let myself drift along on autopilot as we finished the rest of the dinner.

Before I knew it, we were being led into the lounge for coffee, and Troy had come round to my side of the table to walk with me. I was so lost in thought that it surprised me when he took hold of my hand.

Maybe he'd sensed that I needed a boost; or perhaps it was simply because he wanted to do it. Either way, the gesture took away some of my anxiety and replaced it with warmth.

That was what I'd wanted out of the evening...or at least out of our date. I'd wanted to really enjoy myself, because someone really genuine had wanted to take me out.

I suppose it had been a high hope for tonight, of all nights. How could it have been possible to have a _good_ date while at your parents' dinner party _and_ pretending to be in a full-on relationship?

Not to mention absorbing the other discoveries of the evening...

"You alright?" Troy asked softly, still clutching my hand, for which I was grateful as I squeezed it back.

"I think so," I answered, looking at him.

And then I definitely _was_ okay. It was those gorgeous eyes again, easing me back into a world of calmness. At least for the next few minutes, anyway. The night wasn't over yet...

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	7. How To Reveal Your Age With Dignity

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**Enjoy chapter seven!**

"Erm, so about that Tim..." I added, peeling my eyes away from Troy's addictive ones as we continued to walk towards the lounge.

"Yeah, I think most people were expecting him to get the promotion," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Himself included," I added grimly. "But it's not just that. _He's _the man who chatted me up at work today!"

"_What?_" Troy came to a halt in a quiet corner away from the other guests. "But he's married..."

"I know, I just met his lovely wife. What a rat!" I hadn't seen Tim or Sophie yet since I'd left the table, but as I spoke, I noticed they were standing just a few feet away from us now.

Suddenly Sophie turned around, and I got yet another shock. She was cradling a noticeably round stomach – something I'd managed to miss when sitting with her during dinner.

"Oh my God!" I couldn't help exclaiming as I faced Troy again. "He's got a baby on the way as well? What the hell is he doing flirting with any random woman he meets?"

"Once again, that's a question I just can't answer I'm afraid," Troy sighed, referring to our discussion about men in general at the beginning of the night.

"Tim's always been overly-ambitious on the job – sometimes to the point where he rubs people up the wrong way with his manners. But I wouldn't have guessed his morals were _this_ loose."

I thought over his description of Tim for a moment. But Troy seemed to be having another realisation.

"Hang on a minute, Gabi...didn't you say earlier that when Tim was flirting with you, he told you he ran his own business?"

I smiled slightly in spite of our conversation topic. I had finally found a man who was on the same wavelength as me.

"Yes, that's right," I replied. "And I don't like the sound of that one bit – what if he's planning to make that happen now that he's becoming the vice president?" I certainly wasn't smiling anymore as I contemplated the thought of _that_ _man_ taking over my dad's livelihood.

"I think you might be onto something," Troy nodded. "But I'm not sure we can do much about it right now. He hasn't done anything _yet_, besides betray his wife and brag shamelessly."

I knew he was right. I couldn't very well approach my father about this. Not only did we have no physical evidence of anything untoward; there was also the small matter that I knew absolutely nothing about the company. Dad would more than likely just laugh in my face.

My face must have given away the concern I was still feeling, because Troy gave my hand another reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious at work," he told me.

And I was instantly sure I could trust him.

Maybe it was his eyes; maybe it was the sincere look that was spread across his face. Or maybe it was that feeling I'd had since the day I'd first met him; that he was a genuinely lovely guy with the best of intentions.

I'd known Troy less than a week, but it really felt like it had been so much longer.

"Thank you," I nodded gratefully.

And I decided to just leave it at that for the time being – only because my interference in the business would be useless at this point.

In the meantime, Troy and I still had to play out the rest of the party as a couple. So we started to mingle again as the hot drinks were brought in.

I was glad to get a chance to chat to Frank properly; he'd simply explained that he was getting old – he felt it was high time to bow out of work gracefully and enjoy his retirement.

Thankfully, the time went smoothly and quickly, and before I knew it, every other guest had left and Troy and I were the only ones left.

Which meant the two of us were alone with my mum and dad again. And I _wasn't_ so thankful for yet another awkward moment...

"Well!" Mum announced, her hostess voice still present. "What a wonderful evening! I hope we'll be seeing you here much more often now, Troy?"

I cringed, but Troy didn't even blink as his usual smile swept over his face. "I'd be delighted," he replied politely, sending me a twinkly-eyed glance that eased my embarrassment.

How did he always manage to do that to me?

"Troy, you have my full permission to date my daughter," Dad chimed in, to my absolute horror.

Was he serious? I'd never wished to be in a position where I had to remind people of my age, but at this moment I was dangerously close to having a breakdown and shouting out, _"I'm nearly thirty years old!"_

I just couldn't bring myself to talk about that milestone in front of Troy, though. So instead all I did was groan. Loudly. "Dad!"

"Gabriella dear, I'm joking," he told me with a chuckle. "But on a serious note...I do approve."

"Thank you, sir," Troy said with another easy smile.

I had to promise faithfully that we would come over for dinner again next Friday before we could actually escape.

Again, my partner in crime seemed much less inconvenienced than I did.

Before we'd left the house, Troy had taken my hand again. And now, as we headed out to his car, he still wasn't letting go. And I hoped he wouldn't until absolutely necessary.

"So," I said as we walked together. "Should I say thank you first, or would a 'sorry' be better?"

I was joking; but I was also still recovering from my embarrassment, so I felt the need to apologise for certain parts of the evening.

"You canthank me if you want to, but it's been my pleasure. I'm not sure where 'sorry' comes into it, though..." he replied. We reached his car, and he even went to open the door for me to get in.

"Errr..." I filled him in. "I'm sorry about my mother; I'm sorry about my father. And I'm sorry you had to pretend to be the boyfriend of this mad, clumsy woman who's barely the right side of thirty!"

Troy was silent then as he drove, and there was that intrigued look on his face again – the one I remembered seeing from him after I locked myself out of my flat.

Then he spoke up softly. "I'm not," was his simple reply.

I didn't get it at first. "Not what?"

"I'm not sorry I came with you tonight," he elaborated quite plainly.

He still looked perplexed. I wished I could tell what he was thinking now, but I hadn't a clue. Then, with belated horror, I realised what I'd just said in my apology speech.

"Did I just tell you how old I am?" I asked stupidly, because obviously the answer was yes.

He chuckled at me, much to my relief. It meant the awkward moment was over between us. "Erm...I think so? I didn't hear a specific number," he told me, his eyebrows knitted together in thought.

"Oh. Yeah, I was rambling a bit..." As an afterthought, I decided to be clear on something with him. "I'm twenty-nine, by the way."

What did my age matter, really? Unless I was about to find out that Troy was only twenty-two or something, and is therefore far too youthful looking for his own good...

He smiled at my answer, though; so I hoped that my last theory couldn't be the case. Besides, the way he talked, about himself and life in general, just didn't compute with someone only just out of college.

"Ah, thanks for the confirmation," he nodded. His eyes were twinkling even as they focused conscientiously on the road.

I was a bit put out that he hadn't offered to share his own age in return – I was sure he was playing around with me, though.

"Well?" I blurted out eventually.

"What's up?" he said, really grinning away now.

"I demand that you tell me how old _you_ are! It's only fair."

Yet again, Troy let out a chuckle. I _knew_ he was winding me up! "Alright then," he replied calmly.

I waited. He said nothing else. "_Please_ don't tell me you're younger than me, because if you are I might just have to disown you right now," I teased.

"Uh oh..." This time he wasn't smiling, and slight panic set in when I saw his reaction.

_Oh God,_ I thought. _I don't think I want to know...It's bad enough knowing you're almost thirty without finding out your date might not be anywhere near that age!_

"Gabi, relax, I'm joking. I'm thirty-two," he stated quickly. My face must have been a picture.

"Prove it!" I found myself saying. I wanted to make him think I was annoyed, but an involuntary giggle escaped after my words.

"What do you want me to do then, show you my driving licence?" Troy asked lightly, smirking away.

"Oh yeah, I think that will be necessary. In fact I think it's vital," I agreed firmly.

"Well! As your fake boyfriend I'm offended. As your date, however, I'll get over it - as long as you don't cancel on me," he told me with a sly grin.

I was confused. "Cancel what?"

"The date," he repeated slowly.

"You mean the one we've just been on?"

His eyes narrowed in a way that was becoming very familiar to me by now. I knew it meant he was puzzled again. "Gabi, _that_ was only phase one of the evening. Now we're onto phase two," he informed me.

"I didn't know we'd divided the night into phases!" I said in surprised laughter.

It was only at that point that I bothered to look out of the window properly and saw that he wasn't actually driving us in the direction of home.

"I can turn around and head back to our building if you'd like? I mean, if you'd rather go home?" Troy offered then, suddenly looking as though he regretted being so secretive.

But I wanted to put him right straight away – he'd pleasantly surprised me again, but was obviously mistaking my reaction for reluctance.

And I certainly wasn't reluctant to spend more time in his company...

"Oh no, don't get me wrong!" I blurted out. "I'm _glad_ the evening's not over yet. So, where are we going?"

The answer to that question turned out to be just a few seconds away; and in fact I'm still in that very place with him right at this moment.

All I can say so far is that Troy Bolton certainly likes to deliver on the unexpected. He might also be a little bit crazy.

But hey, so am I...

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	8. Learning To Take A Compliment

**Thanks for the reviews! Nearly at 100 now :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Strictly Come Dancing in any way, I just mentioned it in this chapter.**

**...and now you're reading that and wondering what on earth chapter eight is all about, so I'll let you read on lol. Enjoy ;)**

Exhausted; but cheerful this morning. Even though I didn't get home until gone 3am and have had very little sleep.

After I'd assured Troy that I was perfectly happy to continue with our date, he pulled up on a street of well-known nightclubs. This didn't bother me at all, although I found it quite amusing that he wanted to take me clubbing to finish off the night.

I don't know why I had a preconceived idea of which club we were venturing into, given that I'd only known Troy as an acquaintance for five days. But for some reason I fully expected him to lead me into the most popular bar there – the same one I usually go to with the girls.

Anyway, that did _not_ happen. Instead, he once again took hold of my hand – a sentiment I was liking more and more each time he did it – and walked me to another place a few doors away.

This club was one that I'd never have seen myself stepping foot inside before. It was very much a dance-orientated place, which is always the first thing that puts me off going in clubs like that.

Obviously I _do_ dance on a night out - if you can even call it that. My form of dancing is very ridiculous and usually spurred on by alcohol. But I couldn't do that here; people came here to dance the tango or the foxtrot, by the looks of it!

When you have trouble trying not to trip over your own feet on a daily basis, anything else that requires that level of foot co-ordination is simply too scary.

"Er, Troy?" I asked anxiously as he was about to open the door.

"Yeah?" He stopped when he saw my face. It was probably white with terror by now, knowing me.

"This is a dance club," I announced flatly.

It was supposed to be a statement that spoke for itself – he'd already witnessed me falling over in the past week. Surely that was evidence enough that I didn't aspire to be a professional dancer?

"So it is!" Troy confirmed with a grin.

"Right...but I can't dance," I told him, peering through the glass doors in front of us. There were dozens of couples in the middle of a huge dance floor, all looking like they could win Strictly Come Dancing with their eyes closed.

"Me neither – well, I've never tried this before," he gestured towards the people I was looking at.

"Then what..." I was thoroughly confused, but not yet distracted enough to let go of his hand.

"Okay, before I explain myself let me just start by saying I totally understand if you tell me to sod off," he said in all seriousness, making me laugh.

"Sod o..." I didn't get to finish my teasing reply as he stopped me with one hand in the air, laughing a bit himself now.

"I haven't told you what my plan was yet!"

"Well I already think you're mad, but do carry on," I offered. By this point I was able to manage a smirk. Maybe he was just putting me at ease again, or maybe I actually held some faith in whatever his plan involved. Either way, I was willing to listen.

"Thank you," Troy replied, choosing to ignore my mild insult. "Right well, the thing is...this idea sounded so much better when I was deciding to do it. Now it's going to sound stupid. But it's too late now..."

So I've embarrassed myself countless times already in front of this man, and _he's_ the one worried about appearing stupid. Interesting...

"It's just that I really wanted to find a way to tell you how great I think you are. And on top of that, I don't think you realise it yourself – how great you are, I mean." He looked down rather shyly after making this point straight to my face.

He thinks I'm great? And so he took me to a dance club to illustrate that to me?

I decided just to focus on the part I could understand – I wanted to shout out that I thought he was great too!

However, if I had any chance of working out what Troy really meant by all this, I had to keep quiet.

"I knew you weren't looking forward to going to the dinner party, which was completely understandable. But I also know you were worried for another reason. Gabi, do you even know how amazing you look tonight?"

The question made my stomach drop what felt like about three feet. Not in a bad way; I was just utterly floored by what he'd just told me. Or rather, what he'd just _asked_ me.

How on earth was I supposed to answer that?

I seemed to have been on pause for a minute too long, because Troy's face had changed into that fascinated look yet again.

Suddenly I found myself thinking about what had brought his question on. Did my lack of confidence really shine through that blatantly?

"Um...you told me that already. But thanks." Despite my silent pondering, that was all I could say as I recalled the compliment he'd given me at my door earlier in the evening.

He smiled softly, but shook his head at me. He was still holding onto my hand as he spoke.

"You really have no idea, do you?" Troy looked incredulous now. I was starting to wonder if this was all a dream. Men just do _not_ stand in front of you telling you how much they think of you over and over again...

Apparently this man did, though.

I was going to have to burst his bubble – or whatever this moment was turning into. I just couldn't accept all this credit when all I was doing was being me.

As well as that, he hadn't even explained what we were doing at this club yet.

"Look, Troy, you're right. I really have no idea what you're on about, that much I _do_ know. Thank you for saying all those...all those things about me, but honestly I _don't_ see what you see, no."

I kept my voice warm but firm, and he was studying me intently. He didn't object, so I carried on.

"Usually I try to keep my flaws under wraps, but five days of knowing you and you've seen pretty much everything already. I'm clumsy; forgetful; a bit of a moron and even though I'm almost thirty years old, I've just spent the evening lying shamelessly to my parents. _And _I dragged _you_ in on that, too."

He was smiling at me, even after hearing about all my faults. "You didn't really drag me into anything," he argued. "I offered, and I can't really say it's been much of a burden to me."

And then I could've sworn he just winked at me. I looked down, embarrassed but smiling, as he kept talking.

"You know, you just spent the last few minutes putting yourself down. But you missed out quite a few things in that description of yourself. You're right that in just a few days I've learnt a lot about you. What _I've_ learnt is that you're kind, thoughtful, funny...and yes, I know I've already told you tonight, but you _are_ beautiful."

It was the most bizarre moment of my life as I listened to Troy's words. Bizarre, but unbelievably euphoric.

"Are...are you an inspirational speaker or something, as well as everything else?" I stuttered out after a few minutes of stunned silence.

Troy chuckled softly. He seemed quite used to the speculation. "No...I'm just used to having to point out the best in people, I suppose."

It was strange how quickly his eyes changed as he made that statement to me. They looked painfully sad for a moment; but it was a moment that was just too short for me to really decipher it.

Then he smiled again. "Anyway," he broached, and I knew whatever had just been on his mind was gone for now. I couldn't ask him what that was – it was far too soon for that.

"Erm, yeah..." I intervened. "so, not to disregard all the things you just said, but what _are_ we doing here?"

"I thought I'd take you somewhere where you wouldn't know anyone, and therefore wouldn't have to worry about anything," he explained, opening the door and leading me inside the foyer of the foreign-looking place.

I was so utterly confused that I simply let him do so. Now we could hear the pounding beat of the music that was beyond the next set of doors.

"Troy, why in the world would I be worry-free in a club like this? Clumsiness plus dancing like _this_," I gestured around wildly. "Well, it equals a nightmare!"

"Gabi, let me tell you more about _me_. I have two left feet when it comes to anything dance-related. Haven't even been clubbing in years."

That stopped me.

"Seriously?"

He nodded once, and I believed him. "So the purpose of this is..."

"...To let our hair down at the risk of looking like idiots – both of us equally," Troy finished, looking at me hopefully. "Of course, you can still go with the first option and tell me to sod off. This was a really random idea that came into my head after hearing you doubt your own greatness."

A tiny part of me wondered whether I should be offended. In a way, he was pointing out how insecure I clearly was. But that tiny, insignificant part was drowned out by the knowledge that he meant no offence whatsoever. That, and the fact that he'd got to know me really, really well. And I was comfortable with that.

Oh, and he had referred to me as great. And amazing; beautiful...I briefly questioned my mind as to whether this was all a dream.

I wasn't waking up if it was, though.

"Okay," I replied with a grin. "Come on then, you're on!" And as soon as we had shown our I.D.s, we pushed our way through the doors.

I think Troy was more than a bit shocked when I suddenly pulled on his arm and took him right onto the dance floor (I was hurrying before I could change my mind).

I thought the best plan would be to _not_ pay attention to the flawless dancers around us; but to instead do our own thing. He seemed to have the same idea, so before we knew it, we were actually floating around together, in time to the music!

For once, I didn't allow myself to worry about what I looked like while I was attempting to dance. And it felt so good not to care – because truly, I didn't.

_That_ had to be a first.

I came to a sudden realisation, right in the middle of that dance floor with Troy. I discovered why I hadn't been in the least bit bothered by what he'd said before we'd gone in.

It was because he'd told me what I'd always wanted to hear. Not the compliments, as flattering as _they_ were. What he'd done was tell me all about myself in detail.

And yet none of the bad bits seemed to have phased him.

"Your plan was officially a success," I announced a couple of hours later, as we walked up the stairs of our building together. We had ended up staying in that club until closing time.

"In what way would that be?" Troy asked with raised brows, although he already looked triumphant. Neither of us were tired for some reason, and we were both completely sober. It was nice not to be stumbling up the stairs for once.

"Well, for one thing I'm positive we both looked like idiots in there...so mission accomplished!"

He laughed. "And...?"

"And I didn't fall over! Miracles do happen." Now I was laughing as I summed up the rest of our evening.

I watched as Troy rolled his eyes jokingly at my self-deprecating dig – light as it had been. "Aaaaand..." he probed back.

"_And_ I didn't worry about what anyone of about me," I finally added. "Thanks," I declared then, as an afterthought.

Troy's smile was almost shy this time. I suppose he hadn't expected the compliment.

"For what?" And he did seem to be genuinely unaware of his _own _brilliance now.

This gave me the confidence to say what I felt, and I grinned back at him. "For tonight – well, for _everything_ about tonight, really. I know I already thanked you for being my fake boyfriend earlier...but I've got more to say."

This was when I started to feel self-conscious again. Or, to put it bluntly; I felt like a saddo. I just _had_ to say this, though. "I think you're the first man ever to 'tell it like it is' to my face, and I really needed to hear it."

He looked thoughtful for a minute before he replied, and then his face cracked into his usual smile again. "I've never met anyone like you before, Gabi. So strong-minded, and yet you don't give yourself enough credit."

He was wrong. I give myself plenty of credit quite regularly. Credit for being an imbecile...

As we finally reached the door of my flat, the smiled was still glued to my lips. "Well, neither do you," I told Troy in retaliation. Then I ruined the moment and let out a yawn that just couldn't be held back. Lovely.

"Tired?" he asked softly. "It has been a long night, hasn't it?"

It had indeed; but I didn't want it to end yet. I couldn't think of anything to say that would prolong it, though.

"I'd better be heading downstairs. Sleep well," he said.

"You, too. Thanks again..." And once again, I felt awkward.

Troy's eyes were still now, and completely focused on mine. He seemed to be moving closer to me as well, and I waited dumbly, not moving an inch. He reached up a hand to gently push some of my hair away from my face; and then brought his _own_ face towards mine.

I almost couldn't breathe as I waited, my eyes closed. Just as his lips touched mine, something loud and shrill sounded between us, making me jump about a foot in the air.

It was my phone ringing. And it scared the living daylights out of both of us. We were now standing so far apart that a potential passer-by would never have guessed we'd just been on a date together.

"Sorry...haven't a clue who that could be..." I stuttered out as the damn thing continued to ring. I scrambled to get it out of my bag and looked to see who the ridiculous caller was.

Sharpay. But before I could answer it and shout at her, the phone stopped ringing.

"Hope it's not an emergency?" Troy asked, looking concerned.

"No," I replied, trying to hide my frustration. "Just my friend – presumably calling to ask how the party went. If it really was urgent though, she'll ring again."

I knew it _wasn't_ important. Sharpay was just curious enough to call at stupid o'clock in the morning to find out the 'gossip'.

"Ah," he smiled back at me. "Well...goodnight, Gabi."

"Night," I returned, wishing I had the courage to initiate the activity he had been the one to start just minutes before. But I didn't. The moment was lost now.

Troy's goodbye grin kept me smiling anyway as he walked away. Then I looked again at my missed call as I let myself inside the flat.

My best friend had just unwittingly interrupted my first kiss with Troy...

It was hard to be too angry right then, though. I knew how much he'd _wanted_ to kiss me – and that was enough to keep me happy enough to drift off to sleep when I got inside.

Still, thinking about it _now_; as I'm up early (for some odd reason that I cannot fathom) I think it's time to get my revenge and give Shar an early morning wake up call...

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**Thank you **

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	9. Don't Look In The Mirror

**Thanks for the reviews everyone. You've all been reviewing each chapter faithfully, and I love reading what you have say :)**

Angkeats**: I agree about the diary reference, and when I was writing the last few chapters about the dinner party I kept thinking that was missing in the style. I had too much to write and it made it easy to lose the diary format for a bit I think. Glad you're still enjoying the story :)**

**Here's chapter nine! **

"Ugh...hello?"

"Good morning!" I sang cheerfully into the phone. I'd rung Sharpay on the landline, knowing she had a phone on the table beside her bed.

"It's Saturday, and it's before midday. Must you be so loud and happy _quite_ so early?" she asked grumpily.

"Yes," I replied matter of factly. That was my slice of revenge taken care of. Now I knew that eventually she was going to catch on to my good mood and start with the questions.

"Hmm...you're happy," she mused.

"You already said that," I pointed out, trying to be annoying.

Sharpay groaned at me. "Gabs! Is _that_ why you ignored my phone call, then? Because you were having too much fun with Troy?"

It was just like her to make this kind of suggestive remark. I knew she meant it suggestively just by the way she said it. If it had been anyone else, the words may well have been perfectly innocent.

"No!" I blurted out a bit too abruptly. I took a calming breath before I continued. "I _did _have a good time, actually. But not for the reasons you're implying, thank you very much!"

She giggled, and now it was my turn to groan. I'd let her wind me up. She'd already known the answer to her last question before she'd even asked it. Because she knew _me_.

"So go on then, what happened that made last night so great?" she asked eagerly.

I decided to start with the events towards the end of the night. Mainly because I wanted to alert her to what she'd managed to interrupt for me...

"Well, after dinner Troy told me that the date wasn't over yet; and then he took me dancing." I waited for Sharpay's inevitable gasp of surprise.

It came right on cue. "_Dancing?_ As in, not the kind you'd do in our usual nightclubs, right?"

"Exactly. He took me to that dance club in town and..."

"You mean the one where they all dance like pros?" she interrupted, her voice rising as she became more and more shocked.

"Yes, that's the one. Are you _going_ to let me finish the story, Shar?" I teased.

"Alright, fine, carry on then!"

I explained how stunned I had been myself as I was taken into the club; then relayed what Troy had said that then made it impossible for me to turn down his idea.

"So let me get this straight, Gabi," Sharpay replied. "Troy told you how amazing he thinks you are, and basically said you should stop doubting yourself...you're _always_ doing that, by the way..."

"Thanks for that," I said flatly, though my head was still happily going over last night's details even as I listened to my best friend analyse them.

"...and then he took you to a random place that neither of you had ever been to, totally willing to make himself look like an idiot just for the sake of getting you to have some fun?"

I smiled as I answered. "Yeah."

"You know, he might just be as mad as you, Gabs... You're lucky there," she informed me.

"Speaking of mad – what were you doing calling me at 3am?" I asked.

"Well you hadn't phoned _me_ to let me know how it all went – I'd assumed you'd be back by midnight. I got worried when I didn't hear from you."

"So you rang my mobile once and then gave up? I can tell you were absolutely beside yourself, then!" I was only joking really, but I thought it was a good point and it did poke a hole in her excuse.

She ignored my jibe regardless. "So what were you doing at 3 o'clock in the morning, then?"

"Well," I explained casually. "I was about to be kissed goodnight by Troy, and then my phone started ringing which kind of ruined the moment..."

All was silent on Sharpay's end of the line. And then I heard a soft muttering of "oops..." which made me chuckle.

"Yeah. You cheated me out of my first kiss!"

She found her voice again. "Oh, don't be so dramatic! You say that as if you've never been kissed before."

"Feels like I haven't, sometimes; it's been so long," I sighed. "Okay then, you cheated me out of my first kiss _with Troy_," I amended.

"Alright, I get the point. I'm sorry!" she announced sincerely. "So how torturous was the party, then?"

"It all went according to plan," I told her truthfully.

She sighed then, and I knew she could tell I was holding information back from her. Which I was.

"But?"

My turn to sigh now. "_But_ my parents were excruciatingly embarrassing as always."

"And?" Of course Sharpay wasn't surprised by this; and neither was she fooled that it had been the only issue of the evening.

"And there's this guy who's being promoted to vice president at Dad's company..."

"Hang on a minute," she interrupted. "What happened to Frank?"

"He's retiring," I replied softly. And with the reminder of that fact came all the thoughts I'd let myself forget earlier. So I told Sharpay all about vile Tim, starting with how I'd met him.

The whole story left her sounding even more suspicious of him than I was. She insisted that we meet for lunch so I could tell her all the 'gossip' of last night properly.

I was in too good a mood to argue with her demands, despite the serious turn the conversation had taken.

There's still a smile on my face now, as I'm getting ready to walk over to the pub.

Now, if only I could remember where I left my keys...

_**.HSM.**_

Finally home after a long lunch, and Shar's concern over all I've told her on the Tim situation has got me worried now. Maybe I _should _have told Dad something last night.

Again, though...what difference would that have made? It doesn't affect my father or his company to find out that the new vice president is a cheating rat. The fact that he claimed to run his own business might spark some interesting questions, though.

Unless Tim was just saying that to impress me while trying to chat me up.

Sharpay thought we should do a bit of digging ourselves; find out more information about him. Notice the 'we' in that suggestion. I think she's half genuinely concerned, and half excited by the possibility of drama lying ahead.

Anyway, I told her that Troy has already promised to keep an eye on things for now. I'm still pondering over the idea of talking to Dad as well, though...

Ahhhh!

Someone's at the door. I was so lost in thought that the sound of the knocking almost had me jumping out of my seat.

Maybe I'd be quicker if I actually _had _jumped. The visitor has had to knock a few more times already. I'm just on the point of finally opening the door when I hear a soft voice.

"Gabi?"

Suddenly, selfish as I feel for doing it; my other worries are pushed to the back of my mind. And instead I'm grinning as I pull the door aside to greet Troy.

"Hi!" I probably sound too eager, but I couldn't care less.

It must be obvious how happy I am to see him, because he's chuckling now; his eyes twinkling as usual. "Hi," he's saying back, his voice still soft with warmth.

I don't know what to say now. It'll have to be his turn again.

He seems to catch on to this soon enough. "How are you today?"

Relieved to have an opening to say something without having to think of it myself, I relax. "Good, thank you. And you?"

"I'm great, thanks." His smile is suddenly shy now, but still as lovely as every one before it.

It makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one feeling reserved right now. "Come to borrow some sugar, neighbour?" I blurt out jokingly in an attempt to break the awkwardness.

It works. He's laughing easily now, and I laugh back at my own bad joke.

"Well, actually, I came to see if you fancied going for a drink with me," says Troy.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Now, or later on?"

"Is now alright for you?" He actually looks nervous. As if I'm going to change my mind and shut the door on him. Maybe he's regretting how impulsive last night's date was.

I'm certainly not.

"Now is fine by me. Shall I meet you downstairs? I'm just going to change," I'm looking down at my thrown-on clothes self-consciously.

Troy looks confused now. "But you look lovely as you are," he tells me with the utmost sincerity.

I look at his honest face; then back down at my plain t-shirt and old jeans. Though I'm not near a mirror, I know what the rest of me looks like. I literally just stuck my hair up into a messy bun this morning, and I didn't even bother putting make-up on before going to lunch.

I stand there studying myself, knowing I look a total mess; at least in my eyes. But I stepped outside of the building looking like this earlier, and I can do it again, even though I'll be with Troy this time.

Because he thinks I look lovely as I am.

"Okay, I'll go like this. Let's go quickly before I catch sight of myself in the mirror!"

He looks bemused at my logic as I run to grab my coat and bag and then take his hand to leave.

"Got your keys?" he asks teasingly.

But I groan as I realise they're not in my bag. And I was just about to shut the door and lock myself out yet again.

"Oh God..."

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	10. Managing A Meltdown

**Happy New Year!**

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**Hope you enjoy chapter ten!**

So Troy and I have ended up at the same pub I came to earlier for lunch. And it turns out that Sharpay never left. Not only that, but Ryan has joined her, along with his new 'Mr Right'.

Basically what this means is that I was forced into a premature introductory situation when I wasn't quite ready to share Troy with my friends yet.

Even though he's already been 'shown off' to my parents...

Anyway, Shar winked at me with satisfaction as soon as she could tear her eyes away from Troy. I don't blame her – that addictive smile hasn't left his face yet.

Ryan looked equally impressed. Meanwhile his own date keeps staring at mine, and it's getting a bit irritating.

I might have to warn Ry that his boyfriend may not be the loyal type...

_**.HSM.**_

Oh God. Oh my God...

How many times have I been in this pub? So why did _he _have to choose today to walk into it? How have I not come across him before, anyway? After all this time...

If I ever had to face him again, I wanted to look _good_. I wanted to have my head held high with pride. Instead I'm sitting here in the pub toilets, while Troy and my friends get to hear what he has to say.

This is ridiculous. I should _not_ be hiding away. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when I get there, but I'm going back into that bar...

_**.HSM.**_

Wish wine would make me forget how much of a mess I look. On fifth glass now.

He's gone; Troy has not. Shar bought me drinks which made me feel better. Now feeling slightly sick.

Very sick now.

_**.HSM.**_

Where am I?

Opening one eye was quite difficult – hurt my head a bit. But it didn't help answer my question. I'm going to have to brave it and have a proper look.

Ouch.

Oh. Okay. I'm at Sharpay's.

Wait a minute...I don't remember getting here. I don't remember saying goodnight to Troy!

I have no idea what happened apart from the fact that I came face to face with...

"Well, good morning!"

Arrrgh. This is too loud and too shrill for my fragile head. Must be Shar getting her own back for yesterday's wake up call.

"Gabi?"

"Mmm?"

"You alright?" Her voice is quiet and soft now.

"I don't know...I can't remember. How was I before I drank the bar dry? It feels like that's what I did, anyway."

My voice is all croaky. She must have noticed, because now she's getting me a glass of water. This also allows her to delay her answer.

"You were...a bit upset."

Obviously. I take a big gulp of my drink before I let myself respond again.

"I remember that much. I just don't know what happened after that."

"You got drunk," Shar says wryly, but when I look up at her face it doesn't look like she wants to laugh. She looks worried, but I'm not quite ready to deal with that yet.

"What about..."

"Troy? He helped me get you back here in one piece. There was no way we were going to leave you on your own. Bless him, he seemed as worried about you as I was. I told him he was welcome to stay the night but he said he didn't want to scare you."

"Scare me?" I have more pressing concerns right now, but I'd rather fixate on this point. I'd rather think about how brilliant Troy has been than how pathetic I am.

Sharpay is smiling now as she explains. "You were so anxious last night and he didn't want to risk the idea that you might wake up this morning, see him here and find it...creepy. But he stayed for as long as it took to convince him you would be okay."

Wow.

"He's the least creepy person on the planet," I mutter. My voice is weak now. I can't avoid the main topic for long.

"Gabs..."

And here we go... "I know."

"Troy asked me if Matt had ever...hurt you," she says, making me gasp.

"What did you tell him?"

"That he _had_...but probably not in the way that he thought. I didn't say anymore than that. Wasn't my place to."

I really must have been a wreck last night. The way I behaved, no wonder Troy jumped to conclusions.

"I think I owe him an explanation," I say now, starting to get up.

Shar waves her hand out to make me sit back down. "That can wait – somehow I don't think this Troy is planning on going anywhere, Gabi. Now come on, talk to _me_."

I blink a few times, then look back at my friend blankly. I can't continue this conversation with someone who has already expressed her opinion on the subject many times over.

But I know I've scared her. To go all this time without breaking down, all these _years, _and then this...I know she needs to make sure I'm okay. And I will be, once I've truly got over the shock of seeing _him_.

_**.HSM.**_

Now I'm home, I really wish I could just sleep away all these dredged up memories. I've gone so long without even thinking Matt's name, and now it's stuck uncomfortably in my head.

But I need to talk to Troy. I need to make sure he doesn't think I'm a binge-drinking lunatic. Because I did a pretty good impression of one last night...

"Gabriella!"

Oh my God, what the...

I could've sworn that was my mother's voice!

And now there's a knock at the door. Great, she's here.

Mum never comes to my flat. _Why _is she here?

"Gabi, let me in darling, I know you're there!"

I'll have to open the door, she's not one for giving up.

"_How_ did you know I was here?" I ask, trying to look casual and not like I'm in breakdown mode.

My mother is dressed in her Sunday best, and I wonder fleetingly what it is that she's dressed up for. It can't have been just to come here.

"Where else would you be on a Sunday? I knew you were ignoring my calls, so here I am!" she chirps brightly.

I turn around to briefly check the state of my answering machine, only to see it flashing wildly with unheard messages.

"Mum, I wasn't ignoring you, I was out. I've only just got back," I explain innocently.

"Back from where?" she demands, her eyes narrowing disbelievingly.

"Sharpay's. I stayed over last night."

Mum never bothers expressing an opinion on my nights out. And she knows that if I've stayed with Shar, I've most likely been at the pub the night before.

Right now, I'm glad I can count on her not to ask about it. I can't tell her what happened last night, because there are things she doesn't know.

Quite a lot of things, actually.

"Well, I just popped over to ask you and Troy over for lunch."

"What, today?" This is the last thing in the world that I could possibly need right now.

She's laughing at me. That's not going to improve my mood.

"Do you think I'd come all this way if I wasn't talking about today? Honestly, Gabriella!" she's tutting at me now.

"Sorry Mum, but we can't make today. But we'll still be there on Friday, as promised."

"What's wrong with today?" She must really want us to come. I almost feel a bit guilty.

"Troy's busy." Well, he certainly will be soon, when I stop by to explain myself.

Before Mum can reply, we both look towards the door as we hear a knock.

She darts over to answer it before I can even take a step.

I don't know who's more surprised to see Troy standing there; me or my mother.

"Hi, Mrs Bolton," he greets her with his usual smile.

She shoots me a knowing look, obviously referring to my previous comment; then turns back to Troy. "Well, hello again, Troy! Please do call me Maria. I'd better be off then. See you both on Friday."

And she's out of that door quicker than I've ever seen her move.

Which means that now I have to talk to Troy. I have to tell him why I got so upset last night.

I have to tell him that the man in the pub was my ex-husband.

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	11. Time To Tell Your Life Story

**Thanks as always for the lovely reviews :)**

**Here's chapter eleven!**

He's smiling at me just like he usually would. "Hey, Gabi."

Oh God. Troy's being so nice already and all I can think about is how I humiliated myself in front of him last night.

"Hi," I finally reply a bit too quietly.

He notices immediately, and to my surprise reaches for my hand as he moves closer to me. "Hey, it's okay. I just came to see if you're alright, but you don't have to tell me anything. Please don't be embarrassed, there's no need to be."

"I beg to differ..." I tell him, but I manage an appreciative smile at his kindness. "And I _will_ explain...that's if you want to hear it. It's kind of a long story."

Troy smiles back softly, then nods in answer to my invitation.

I let out a sigh that I can't hold in, hoping he won't hear it. Then I turn away to lead him to the sofa.

When I first spotted this man driving my usual bus to work, never in a million years did I guess that a week later I would be telling him all about my past.

But here I am...

"Troy," I start hesitantly, because I'm about to tell him something I've not spoken aloud for years. "A few years back, I was married. That man in the pub last night, Matt...he's my ex-husband."

_**.HSM.**_

"I don't really let myself think about it. But if I'm honest, _he's _the reason I've stayed single all this time. I've moved on in every other way apart from that."

Troy is listening intently. I can't think of a name for the way his face looks right now; but one thing I do know is that he cares. Enough to give the subject of my broken marriage his full attention.

I thought this would be hard, but it's not. Maybe that's because I'm discussing it with someone who's never heard the story before.

Or it could be because I seem to be able to tell Troy anything effortlessly.

"We got married too young – we met at school," I'm explaining. His eyes don't widen when I reveal this to him; but I'm certain that no one would ever have thought _I _had got myself married at the age of eighteen.

"We'd been married for about a year and a half when I had this accident – I'm sure that bit doesn't surprise you..." I'm not sure whether I want him to laugh or not, but when I look up I see that Troy is smiling. It's enough to make me continue.

"Anyway, I broke my leg in several places, and Matt had to look after me. He resented that, and we started to argue a lot. Obviously, I couldn't work for a while with a broken leg, so I...I became overweight. That's what happens when all you're capable of is sitting at home and eating, I suppose."

Troy's eyes are watching me with a flicker of understanding in them. I know he's piecing together the reasons for my insecurities as he listens.

"I woke up one morning to find that he'd just...left me. No note; he hadn't even said that he wanted out of our marriage. It seems even a joke to call it that now – a _marriage_. I rang everyone I could think of frantically, trying to find him. His sister eventually answered, saying he was staying with her. She told me he'd left me because I was _fat_."

There's no emotion in my voice as I come to the main point in my little story. I've been over it too many times; talked about it so much that now, years later; I've disconnected myself from it. I know it's the story of a big event in my life; but to help myself overcome what happened, I've had to act as though it simply didn't happen to _me_. The overweight girl with the broken leg wasn't me.

And in some ways, it's true. I'm not the same person I was then.

Troy hasn't said a word yet.

"Troy?"

He takes a deep breath, then finally answers me. "I'm so sorry," he whispers.

And suddenly I'm laughing. He must think I'm deluded, having just given that depressing monologue.

"Well...thanks, but it's not _your_ fault!" I say as my laughter dissolves.

Just as quickly as my amusement disappears, the embarrassment returns in full force. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that last night..."

This seems to snap him into action, and he moves to sit right next to me now. "Don't give that another thought, Gabi, please. I'm just glad you're doing okay."

Troy couldn't be more different to Matt if he tried. And now I realise something as I sit and watch him watching me. All this time, I've thought myself perfectly willing to find someone – if only to end the years of being a singleton.

But was I willing to let a man into my life like this before? Probably not.

It just goes to prove my point, then, when I find that I'm keen to finish the rest of my story. "You know, I really didn't think it was true at the time, when his sister told me why he'd left. I demanded that Matt tell me himself. So he did."

I think his exact words were: "You've let yourself go, Gabriella." But I'm sure Troy gets the gist without me having to tell him that.

"That's...awful. I don't know what to say," Troy replies, giving my hand a squeeze.

"Neither did I," I answer, smirking as I think of something that used to cause me so much pain. Now I just wonder how I didn't see it coming. "Especially when I found out that he'd met someone else."

"You're joking!"

I shake my head, but I'm smiling. That part doesn't bother me anymore. What happened next...that part _does_. Despite how much I've moved on now, I can't say I feel nothing about the months following my marriage split.

Yes, I forced myself to pretend it wasn't me for a while. But it's still there – I know it _was_ about me.

I look up at Troy. He can see that my thoughts have drifted, and his eyes are asking me what I'm thinking about.

"I was so upset at the time that I just couldn't be bothered anymore. I stopped making an effort. I stopped going out, I stopped all my training plans; I even stopped eating properly."

I know what that last admission will have him thinking; and sure enough his eyes widen with shock.

And pain, too; I see that as I study his face just that little bit longer.

Although I'm not clear on why my words have caused him _this_ much distress; I'm desperate to set things straight.

"It wasn't an eating disorder, Troy. Maybe it could have gone that way, but my head was a mess – it was far too muddled to even think of trying to control my body. The not eating part only lasted about a week before Sharpay intervened and gave me a good talking to. She shocked me into going back to square meals and everyday routines; but I still wasn't myself. I didn't truly pick myself up again until the divorce came through and I finally decided to carry on with my hairdressing training."

So that's it. That's my life story told. I feel like I've been talking for a week, and that was only the short version. I don't want to relive those awful dark days any longer than I have to.

I can't bring myself to look at Troy again; not yet. I need to hear him say something first. Anything.

"So that's why you can't see yourself through my eyes," he mused softly, startling me with his unexpected remark.

Does _anyone_ see me the way he does?

I can't find an answer for him. Not directly, anyway.

"Well, with the way I was behaving, the weight dropped off me; unhealthy as the method was – though it really wasn't intentional. By the time I was eating properly again, I'd pulled myself together enough to start eating _better_, too."

Troy looks like he wants to say something else in relation to how I see myself. I can tell because he's got that curious look on his face again. So it throws me completely when he opens his mouth and instead utters another set of words entirely.

"Gabi...this might be the wrong time and place to say it, but if I could just tell you anyway; you don't have to answer me right now."

"What?" I blurt out, stunned. "I mean...sorry, carry on."

He laughs at my reaction, something he must be used to by now. "I don't think this is how most people do this. Sometimes I'd like to be spontaneous like most guys, but I don't think this is the right moment for that. What I want to say is...I've got feelings for you, Gabriella."

Something about the use of my full name makes the statement all the more sincere – though I don't need any extra convincing of it's truth.

It's as though some sort of spell over me has been broken. Suddenly I know exactly what to do next.

"Troy?"

"Yeah?" His smile is nervous as he waits for my reply, but my own face is brimming with life right now.

"Who says it's not the right time for a bit of spontaneity?" I ask impulsively before leaning over to kiss him.

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	12. Waking Up With Company

**Sorry it's been a while since the last update! Thanks for reviewing guys, I hope you all enjoy chapter twelve :)**

I'm warm. A lot warmer than I usually feel when I wake up in bed on a Monday morning.

Then I realise why. It's because someone's arms are wrapped around me. Now _there's_ something I haven't experienced in a _long_ time...Mmm, I must say, it's very nice.

Then I open my own eyes to be met with a pair of gorgeous blue ones. Maybe I'm still dreaming...

I can hear chuckling. I know who it is, but I'm not ready to accept that this is real yet. "Gabi," the voice is saying through it's laughter. "What _are_ you doing?"

I think he's referring to the fact that I'm scrunching up my eyes, then rubbing them to check that I'm not seeing things.

"Well, I'm probably dreaming knowing my luck, so..."

Troy has cut me off with a very real, long kiss.

"Oh. It wasn't a dream?"

"Definitely not," he replies, grinning at me.

"Oh good," I let out a sigh, which does not go unnoticed by him as he squints to study my face. I wish he wouldn't. I don't look particularly outstanding in the mornings.

"What are you like..." he says playfully, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Generally I'm a bit of an idiot," I reply even though it wasn't that sort of a question.

"No, you're not. I can think of a few other people who fit into that category, but you certainly don't."

"Troy..." He's being so lovely, but I know where this conversation is going, and it doesn't fit into my world. He's trying to say that Matt was an idiot for letting me go – or words to that effect.

But all I can think of now is that I'm glad I had to go through all that; because it got me to this moment.

It just took far too long for it to happen, that's all.

"Sorry," he says now. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, it's not that..."

"It's just that I mean it," he continues. "That guy _is_ an idiot. And I've met him, so I can say that wholeheartedly."

Oh God. I completely forgot about that...

"What...what happened? You spoke to him...you spoke to Matt?" That's more than I did. First I ran off; and _then_ returned to find him disappearing swiftly out of the pub. I never did find out what I missed.

Troy gives me a wry smile. "I did. Obviously I didn't know who he was at first, but I worked out that he must have been your ex. He was really arrogant – a nasty piece of work by all accounts. So I kept telling him to leave until he finally got the message."

"Oh," I say, a bit overwhelmed. "Thank you.."

He gives my hand a little squeeze. The next time he speaks, his eyes are more serious as he looks at me.

"You told me something that must have been really hard talk about, Gabi. Now there's something I want to tell you, too."

Well that was unexpected.

"I...when I was a kid, my sister passed away."

I don't know what to say.

"Her name was Lauren, and she had anorexia."

Oh my God. This is why he...

"That's why I came out with all those random comments," he finishes my silent musing for me. He looks worried when I don't answer, but it's only because I'm still lost for words.

"I meant them, Gabi – everything I said to you, I meant. I was just trying to explain why I blurt things out the way I do. It's because I used to listen to my sister talking about how much she hated her looks. She didn't realise everyone thought she was beautiful. Even _I_ knew how popular she was in secondary school, and I was only ten at the time."

I need to say something. Anything. But I keep thinking about all the lovely things he said to me. The way his face looked when he said them. I knew he meant them; but I also knew there was something else...

And now I understand.

"I'm so sorry. To think you've been through something so..." I trail off, unable to think of an appropriate word. "I can't _believe_ I did all that rambling last night," I add quietly to myself.

But he's heard me.

"What? No, don't be daft. What happened to me doesn't make what you've been through any less traumatic, Gabi."

It _so_ does. I was such a mess yesterday – and even more so the night before. Troy's had to cope with much worse than what Matt did to me, and he's not making a fool of himself.

"How do you do it?" I can't stop myself from asking him.

"Do what?" Troy looks like he's wondering what he's missed in the conversation.

"Manage to be so..." Well that was clever of me. I started a topic that I can't finish, because yet again the right word won't come to me. "I mean, how do you cope so well?" I say instead.

He looks deep in thought for a minute. It's almost as though the memories of what happened to his sister have made him wonder exactly how he does cope. But then he just...smiles. A proper, relaxed smile that calms me right down.

"Trust me, I have bad days sometimes. But if Lauren's death – and her illness – taught me anything, it's that a positive outlook is important in keeping going. It's what would have helped her; but she couldn't get past the negative image she had of herself. I realised that when I was old enough to understand what she went through."

God, that's brilliant. Here I am going through life obsessing about my faults, and analysing them to death while I'm at it; when I could be much happier seeing the good points instead.

If only doing that would come as easily to me as it does to him.

"I just can't help wincing when I hear someone putting themselves down, though," Troy adds. "As I said, I heard Lauren talking about herself in that way so often, and it's stayed with me."

And instead of removing himself from a situation that reminds him of a painful memory, he decides to stick around and tell someone they're not as pathetic as they think they are.

In other words – me.

"Troy, you are one of a kind. Seriously," I tell him.

He looks surprised; like he hasn't even heard himself for the past few minutes. Then he grins at me.

"That was going to be my next line," he replies.

Oh no. I've just caught sight of the clock.

"Oh God!" I've jumped out of bed and am running around like an idiot, in full-on panic mode.

"What's wrong?" Troy sounds alarmed; but not as alarmed as I am right now.

"I'm going to miss my bus! I'll be late for work!"

He's just sitting there smiling at me.

"What?"

"Did you really think I'd make you run for the bus in the cold, when there's an available chauffeur right here, at your service?" And with that, he smiles his brilliant smile at me again.

And then I realise something. "You're not working on the buses today," I blurt out stupidly. I mean, obviously he isn't; otherwise he probably wouldn't still be here.

"No, it's just job number two today," he says, winking at me. "I don't have to be in until eleven, so I'll take you to work if you want?"

"Yes please! Looks like we've got time for breakfast then – fancy a coffee?" I ask as I wander out of the room.

"Great, thanks."

"Argh!"

I've just stepped on something hard and painful. And cold. Ouch.

"Gabi?" Troy's voice gets nearer and nearer. He must have leapt off the bed pretty sharpish.

"I'm fine, just stood on something. This is quite a standard Monday morning for me, actually."

He lets out a chuckle, and I roll my eyes, finally looking down to see which offending object has hurt my poor foot.

"Aha!"

"What's up?"

"Found my keys," I say rather smugly.

_**.HSM.**_

We had _no _customers this morning. None whatsoever. So there's been plenty of time for Dani to grill me about Friday night.

When she first asked me, I had to remind myself what she what talking about. The dinner party feels like an age away.

"Well, he seems to have passed the test," she's commenting now, as I trim her hair. We've got another gap before any other clients are due in, and it's a perk of the job to be able to get your hair done in between.

"What test?" I roll my eyes at Dani through the mirror in front of her.

"He survived your parents!" she exclaims dramatically. And again I roll my eyes.

"I can't believe that's the part you fixate on – after everything else I told you about the weekend!"

I've filled her in on my humiliating pub incident. All she had to say to that was, "hey, it could've been worse."

Exactly _how _could it have been any worse?

Now she's smiling knowingly at me. "So did Troy run straight off after what happened, then?"

I sigh. "If he had, I'd have started my story with that, wouldn't I?"

"Exactly. He didn't just give up on you. He knows all about your past and he still wants to be with you. I'd say you had a pretty successful weekend, Gabs."

Okay. That's shut me up.

"Well...I never said I didn't. It's just that I was such a pathetic mess; and he's so strong...even though he's been through so much."

"He has? What happened to him?"

Dani isn't just being nosey. I can tell she's genuinely interested, and it's obvious she approves of Troy, too. But I can't tell her about Troy's sister. That's his business.

"Let's just say he's got just as much to feel upset about as I have – if not more so."

She thinks this over for a minute, then shrugs at me. "So he's a man – men tend to be stronger than women. Gabi, you're just going to have to get over what happened in the pub. Troy doesn't care – and neither should you."

I know, I know. She's right.

Besides, if I haven't scared him off by _now_ (without ever meaning to, of course); then there's a good chance that Dani's right. He actually wants to be with me.

Me. The girl who is always losing things and falling over herself.

Even after everything Troy's told me, I still can't quite believe it.

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	13. Suspicious Minds Think Alike

**So who is reading **Fate **by **Angkeats**? It's highly addictive to read lol.**

**Also good is **Crashing Down **by **Bluebell140 **:)**

**Thank you for your reviews – love it when you tell me what you liked about a chapter! Enjoy chapter thirteen... **

Back to the bus stop today.

And it had to be the day that I can't find my phone...And I mean I've looked _everywhere_. I'm sure of it.

I have to leave in ten minutes. God, I really must get organised...it's the same every week – another lost item.

Where the he...oh.

It's ringing now...obviously I forgot to look somewhere after all. But where oh where is that coming from? I don't have time to play hunt the ringtone here.

It's getting louder...aha! Here it is. I'll ask myself why it's on my shoe rack later on...

"Hello?"

"Gabi? You okay? I didn't want to interrupt anything, but I thought I'd risk it today because it's important..."

"I'm fine, Troy – haven't even got to work yet, I was held up searching high and low for the phone," I tell him. I wonder what's so important that he's ringing me while at the office?

Even though this is clearly a serious phone call, Troy lets out a chuckle. "At least it wasn't your keys this time. Anyway, I've got some news. It's about Tim Morris."

I've left the flat now, and have to force myself to keep walking to the bus stop, rather than stop still in total shock. I'd almost completely forgotten about Mr Vile.

"What is it?"

"I just overheard him talking, and he...well, I don't have enough time to tell you exactly what he said, but he certainly didn't make himself look good. And I'm not just referring to the way he treats his wife."

I knew it. I _knew_ it!

"Oh my God, Troy...what's he up to?"

"Oh, I know what he's after, Gabi. I just haven't worked out how he's going to get it yet. I will, though."

He cares so much, it puts a stop to all my worries about what could happen to my dad's business. For now, anyway.

"Thank you," I say, then spot the bus coming down the road. "I have to go. Talk to you later?"

"Of course; I'll pick you up from work. Have a good day."

We hang up; I get on the bus, and then try to make myself focus on the day ahead. Clients and their hair – that's it.

_**.HSM.**_

It's impossible not to think about all the other stuff. Especially in between appointments.

Thankfully I only have an hour or so left before the end of the day. The phone rang earlier and I was convinced it was going to be my mother. It wasn't; but when I _do _speak to her I won't be able to stop myself from giving her a piece of my mind.

She's given out my number. Or rather, the salon's number. I picked up the phone earlier, only to hear Sophie Morris' voice on the other end. Vile Tim's wife.

She wants to meet up for coffee. To chat with me. Despite the random offer, I would probably have taken her up on it quite easily under normal circumstances. She seems like a genuine, kind woman.

But her husband is a rat. And I know it. How can I look her in the eye? The poor woman...

I couldn't say no to her, though. From her point of view, I had no reason to refuse. So after standing there on pause for a minute, I told Sophie I'd love to meet up.

I'm meeting her for lunch tomorrow.

Oh God.

She wants to be my friend. Little does she know that her husband tried to chat me up. And is apparently capable of being even more devious than that...

I think I need a drink. Is it time to go home yet?

_**.HSM.**_

"Here," says Troy, handing me a glass of white wine as we sit down in his flat.

I honestly don't mean to down the drink so quickly, but within two minutes that's exactly what I've done. "Thanks," I reply as I spot him watching me curiously.

"You okay?" he asks, taking the glass back from me.

"Just a bit stressed," I admit with a sigh. "Tim's wife phoned me up today, and now we're having lunch together tomorrow."

There's silence for a moment as Troy takes this in.

"How did that happen?"

"Mum gave her the number of the salon. And I couldn't just turn her down, so who knows how I'll get through _that_ knowing what I know. Speaking of which, what happened at work?"

He grimaces, obviously going over it all in his head. "I heard him talking on the phone, and he said it shouldn't be long before he takes over your father's company."

The arrogant, conniving...

"Arsehole!" I exclaim out loud.

"My thoughts exactly..." Troy replies. "It also sounded like he was talking to a mistress at the time."

"That doesn't surprise me...how could you tell?"

He looks twice as anxious all of a sudden, his eyes downcast.

"Troy?"

"He kept saying 'babe' every two minutes," he tells me, rolling his eyes. "And he was badmouthing his wife something rotten. It was...rather disgusting to listen to. And even worse considering she's pregnant."

"What did he say?" Something tells me that whatever it is, it's going to bother me. But I'm far too curious not to ask.

"Gabi...I'm not even comfortable repeating it myself," he replies. And to be fair, he does look quite disturbed by whatever words he is silently recalling.

"Alright, you don't have to tell me exactly what he said, but...just _how_ was Tim badmouthing Sophie?"

I feel like I can already guess the basics, but I need Troy to confirm it for me. It's strange how all of a sudden, I really care about what happens to poor Sophie.

"He was saying things about her looks," he finally explains. "He said several things, like that she'd 'let herself go'."

It hits me as if it's Matt all over again. They were the very same words he said to me, after all. And my face must have betrayed my thoughts, because now Troy is beside me, his hands laced through mine.

"I'm sorry. That's why I didn't want to tell you," he says softly. "Are you alright?"

"It's not your fault," I manage, and we share a small smile as we remember the last time I said that to him – after I'd first told him about Matt. "It's just that...that's what Matt said to _me_."

For half a second, I wonder what horrible things Matt must have said when he came into the pub the other night.

And then all at once, it doesn't matter to me anymore as Troy pulls me into his arms, kissing me on the forehead.

I don't want to know what nasty things that man came out with. And I don't _need_ to know, either.

What I _do_ need (besides Troy) is to find out what Tim Morris is going to do to fleece my Dad, and get his own way.

"What are we going to do?" I ask, turning in his arms to face him.

"Well," Troy ponders for a minute. "I'd like to be able to search his office for some sort of evidence, but I'll probably get caught before I can find anything. We need to be able to show your Dad something concrete."

In other words, we need someone nosey. Someone willing to break a few rules...

Someone like Sharpay.

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	14. When Your Best Friend Turns Spy

**Hey all! Thanks for all your reviews, and sorry for the late update – I have been trying to get ahead on chapters while also writing a one shot for the new ZA Angels write-off! If you are following **Angkeats' **work on here, you might have heard of it :) She is the one who will be setting the themes each month, allowing any HSM fanfic writers to come up with a one shot based on that theme. So search for the ZA Angels website and have a go if it sounds like something you would be interested in! Anyway, my own one shot should be up very soon, and in the meantime, I hope you like chapter fourteen of The Single Girl...**

"Leave it to me, Gabs," my best friend insists casually.

Oh God. Why do I have a feeling that 'leaving it' to Sharpay isn't the best idea?

Okay. It's fine. She's _not _investigating this on her own. That really would be a mistake.

I need to calm down.

Finally, I put my phone down and take a deep breath, then carry on walking towards the café at which I'm meeting Sophie Morris.

"_Hello, nice to see you again. Listen, before you decide whether you want to be my friend there's something I ought to tell you..."_

No. Just no. That cannot happen. Who am I to go blurting out big, marriage-destroying secrets?

Exactly. I'm nobody. I have to pretend that I don't care in the slightest what Tim gets up to behind his wife's back.

His lovely, pregnant wife...

This man really is a lowlife.

I've arrived now, and almost instantly I spot Sophie, sitting at one of the outside tables with one hand resting on her bump. I wander over to her and smile warmly. I really did take an instant liking to her at the party.

"Hello!"

She looks up, returning my smile whole-heartedly. "Gabriella! How are you? Lovely to see you again."

"And you! I'm great thank you," _apart from the fact that your husband is trying to steal my father's livelihood. _"How are you?"

She is still smiling, and I can see she's going to respond just as positively as I did. This is where I begin to feel uncomfortable; because I know that with just one revelation I could bring her world crashing down. And I don't like that feeling one bit.

"I'm very well, thank you!" She pats her bump proudly as I take a seat opposite her. "Just a few more months to go."

"Not long now then! Do you know whether you're having a boy or a girl?" Sophie is so genuine that I start taking a real interest; blocking all thoughts of upset out of my mind.

"No, Tim and I decided we wanted it to be a surprise," she answers fondly. Then after a minute, she starts to explain our meeting. "I hope you didn't mind me phoning up out of the blue yesterday! It was just so nice to meet you at the dinner on Friday; and I don't really know any of the other girls that well. It'd be lovely to finally make a friend."

I know she's referring to the other wives and girlfriends of my Dad's employees – and of course, that's not who I am. I'm the boss's daughter. There's always the possibility that she has an ulterior motive for becoming my friend; but somehow I can't see this woman being capable of that.

Besides, even more unusual than that is the fact that she hasn't become close to any of the 'others'. I mean, there's no reason for her not to be.

"No problem!" I tell her with a bright smile. Someone comes over to take our food orders, and it doesn't take either of us long to simply choose something from the menu offhand.

"Are the other wives not as friendly as you, then?" I add this as a joke after the waiter has disappeared, although now I am kind of starting to wonder...

That comment seems to have been a mistake, though, when I see Sophie looking down awkwardly.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, sorry...it's just that, if I'm honest; I don't think any of them like me," she explains with a sad smile.

Sophie suddenly looks so vulnerable; that confident (yet kind) air has been replaced with shy embarrassment.

She reminds me of myself, I realise abruptly.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true!" I reply, meaning every word as I reach out my hand to pat hers encouragingly. Our food arrives before she can answer me, so instead she offers me a weak, but grateful, smile.

The food is good; the conversation improves after that somewhat awkward moment, and I end up feeling like I've spent my lunch hour chatting with a really good friend.

If only the concept of a friendship with Tim's wife weren't so complicated...

_**.HSM.**_

So it's 6pm; we've all finished work for the day, and Sharpay and I are on our way to the office of my father's business to meet Troy. Although he was actually working on the buses today, he went straight into the office after finishing his shift, saying he'd meet us there when we were ready.

Luckily, Troy does have a genuine reason for coming in – he wanted to get a head start on some new work he has to do. I also know that my Dad has gone home already, because Troy text me earlier to tell me.

It would look highly unusual if I turned up here, only to come face to face with my father. I haven't visited this place in years. Then again, that was before I started dating one of his assistants...

Shar and I walk through the doors of the building, trying not to look like we're in a hurry; when of course we _are_. But any attempts to avoid being spotted by Maggie - my Dad's secretary, who's been here since I was in my teens – fail completely when she happens to look up at the sound of the loud glass doors shutting behind us.

"Gabi!" she exclaims in delighted surprise. "How nice to see you, dear! What brings you here?"

Maggie is at least sixty (I've never actually asked) and is far too gentle and good-natured to ever consider anything untoward, so there's no way I'm going to confide in her about Tim.

"Oh, I just popped in to meet Troy after work," I reply as casually as I can.

She gives me a knowing look and I glance at Sharpay, who in turn is raising her eyebrows at me.

"Ah yes, your father mentioned that you and the young man were courting," says Maggie with a grin.

What is it with that word lately?

"Erm...yes," I manage, hardly daring to look back at Shar again for fear of laughing. "Anyway, lovely to see you, Maggie. We'd better get going!"

"Oh, of course, sorry dear. You know where you're going, do you?"

"Yes thanks!" I call as we walk away and head towards the nearest lift.

As we are taken up to the right floor, I turn to my friend to find her stifling giggles.

"What?" I demand even though I already know what's tickled her.

"Nothing, nothing...so, what exactly does _courting _entail?"

I give her a stern look, but end up laughing with her in defeat. "Oh, shut up!"

Finally the lift doors open and I step out...walking right into Troy.

"Oops! Sorry, Troy," I say sheepishly as his face crinkles into that familiar smile.

"Hello," he says simply, leaning back towards me to kiss my cheek.

"Hi." For a minute, I forget where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing.

"Hi, Sharpay," he adds as we pull away and all start walking in the direction of the office.

"Hello, Troy," she replies.

Well, that was all very formal.

"Hello, office," I can't help blurting out when we get inside.

Sharpay rolls her eyes at me, but Troy just chuckles.

Now, as I look at all the desks scattered around the room; all my humour has gone. We're here to do a job.

Not that I have any idea where to start...

"This is where I work most of the time," Troy tells us. "Along with the other assistants. Frank's office is..."

"Over there?" I finish, pointing to the door right at the back of the room. He smiles back at me. "I remember," I add. "What about Tim?"

"He's been working in a smaller room until he takes over from Frank – his office is down here," he explains, leading both Shar and I towards yet another door to the far right of the room.

And sure enough, there's his name right on the front of it.

"If he's not here, won't it be locked?" I ask, tugging on the handle and proving my point when it doesn't move an inch.

"What do you think _I'm_ here for?" Sharpay asks pointedly, searching swiftly through her bag. Half a minute later she produces one of her bank cards, and I stare at her incredulously. Am I in one of those spy films or something?

I watch in total shock (and, I'll admit it; awe) as she carefully pushes the edge of the card through the gap in the door and wriggles it around. Seconds later she removes it with one hand, and uses the other to open the door.

And it actually opens. So _this _is what she meant by "leave it to me"?

Shar marches inside, and I'm still too stunned to move of my own accord. So I let Troy take my hand and gently pull me along with him.

"Do I _want_ to know where you learned that little trick?" I manage at last. She doesn't answer, just grins slyly at me and taps the side of her nose.

Okay. I think my best friend might be a spy.

Moving on...

"Er...Troy, what should we be looking for?" Because I am so rubbish at this.

"Any suspicious paperwork; anything lying around that doesn't relate to work he _should _be doing," he explains as he starts looking through Tim's desk.

Right...come on Gabi, do something useful.

"Almost got it...there!" Sharpay exclaims. I glance in her direction to see that she's successfully managed to unlock the filing cabinet in the corner.

I'm just about to make some remark about that female assistant from the Bond films, when I realise that someone else is coming into the room.

However, this doesn't stop Shar from shouting out, "Oh my God, look at this!" and waving something out in front of her.

I look between her, Troy and the person at the door, and gasp when I see who it is that's watching us.

"Do you kids need a hand?" comes Frank's voice. And strangely, he actually sounds like he means it...

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	15. A Second Date And A Haircut

**Oh I know, it's been two weeks since the last update...sorry! Since the last chapter, I've also written a one shot for this month's **ZAAngels Write-Off** theme. It's called **Lost & Found**, so if you're interested in reading it please check it out :) The other entries are brilliant and well worth reading, and don't forget you can also have a go at writing something for it yourselves! Anyway, here is chapter fifteen for you at last... **

Frank is 100% serious about lending us a hand, it turns out.

After I recovered from the shock of his interruption (i.e. picked my jaw up off the floor), he explained that he'd actually come into Tim's office to have a 'bit of a search party' himself.

He may not need to now, though. Sharpay found this document that basically proves we were right to doubt Tim. Frank and Troy said it's a preliminary legal contract that's been designed to transfer assets from one person to another.

Even _I_ could understand what that meant.

What I can't fathom is why this contract was so easy to locate in that filing cabinet – even if it was locked. You'd think Tim would be smart enough to keep the paperwork with him...

Anyway, Frank told us that he'd begun to wonder about Tim's true intentions a few days before. He didn't say why; but I trusted that he'd used his instincts to look out for my Dad's business.

Troy and I left the contract with him last night; and I have to say I accepted without hesitation when he offered to talk to Dad alone. At least I knew he'd take Frank at his word.

I'm at work now, and starting to get bored. I don't have a booking for another two hours, so I'm just sat behind the desk, answering the phone and hoping someone might walk in and ask for a haircut. Dani's busy colouring an elderly woman's hair.

God, this is so dull. The phone's not even rung for a good twenty minutes. I may have to resort to dusting the shelves...

I'm on the point of walking through to the back to get the polish when the salon door opens (hooray, am saved from a tedious afternoon of cleaning!) and I almost laugh out loud. Because guess who it is?

"Hi there, I'd like to order one haircut please?"

Troy runs a hand through his hair as if to point out the true necessity of his words. I pretend to study the appointment book whilst trying not to grin.

"Hmm, well let me just check...we've been rushed off our feet all morning!"

I look up again and he's watching me with a smile. "Oh, I can tell," he replies with a nod.

"Right, come and sit down then," I tell him, grabbing a gown which I put on him before he can say anything else. He obliges and sits down at the station I direct him to – the area I always work at.

He turns to his left, noticing an intrigued Dani and her client, Mrs Rigby, both looking at him. "Hello," he says kindly.

"Hi! You must be Troy?" she smiles knowingly. I suppose my face must have made it obvious who he was then! She shoots me an impressed look, and I try not to blush.

"Yes – Troy, this is Dani," I introduce, feeling a bit embarrassed at the look on _her _face.

Mrs Rigby clears her throat purposefully, and we all look at her. She's smiling, but gives me a pointed look with her eyes. She's been coming here for years and says she feels like we're family to her, bless her heart.

"Mrs Rigby, Troy; Troy, this is Mrs Rigby," I add hastily. And now I'm positive I've gone red.

Dani goes back to finishing Mrs R's hair, so I turn back and look at Troy's face through the mirror.

"So," I say quietly. "Why aren't you at work?"

"Long lunch break. Your dad has been in a meeting with Frank all morning – I went in to confirm what I'd seen on that document, but I don't know what's happening besides that. Thought I'd see if I could sample your hairdressing skills and then ask you out for lunch?"

"So Dad's taking this Tim thing seriously?" I'm genuinely interested, but I must admit I'm also teasing the poor man who's just offered to take me on what will officially be our second date.

I just _can't_ refer to that disastrous evening in the pub as a date. Not when my ex-husband appeared out of the blue and I went on to get so hideously drunk.

But anyway...

"He sounded very serious when I spoke to him," Troy answers. "Now, two things: What exactly are you planning on doing to my hair; and are you going to let me take you out for lunch afterwards? The lack of an answer just now didn't do wonders for my confidence."

Not that I'm gullible or anything, but I still have to look up from combing through his hair, just to check his facial expression. And of course, he's trying not to laugh.

"Firstly, I think a Mohawk will suit you very well. And secondly, yes, lunch sounds great thank you." I manage this reply with a straight face, and that's just how his face looks as he stares into the mirror.

"I very much hope you're joking, otherwise I'll be taking you to McDonalds to eat instead of where I originally planned, so..."

We smirk at each other through the mirror, then I remember I'm still supposed to be working, and we finally discuss his haircut so that I can start it.

Eventually I'm trimming his hair while simultaneously thinking about how flirty our conversation was just then. We haven't talked like _that _since the night of the dinner party. It's as if Troy's got over the nerves that were there last week; and maybe the same thing's happening to me.

This is new, and I quite like the feeling. I didn't even think I knew _how_ to flirt.

_**.HSM.**_

"Nice work, by the way," Troy tells me as he smooths a hand over his new haircut. We've just sat down at a table in a little restaurant which I've never had time to visit before. Everything on the menu sounds delicious – I'm tempted to order the whole lot...

But I force my eyes away from the large selection I'm reading about, and survey my handiwork yet again. Not to boast, but it _does_ look great. Or maybe it's just the fact that it's Troy's hair; who knows?

"You're welcome!" I grin back at him. "This place is so lovely – what brought on the idea for this lunch date?"

He smiles back softly. "Well, we've both been preoccupied with all this Tim business for the last few days, so I wanted us to have a real second date. Frank's dealing with the situation at the office for now, so..."

"Time to relax?" I finish for him.

"Exactly," he grins. "Until our lunch breaks are over, anyway..."

_**.HSM.**_

I'm still so full from our huge lunch, and it's been a good few hours now. I've just got home after spending the evening at Sharpay's, sharing a bottle of wine.

She's still high with pride over her spy skills from last night, and for some reason thought I'd have hot gossip for her on the situation. She seemed quite disappointed when all I had to say was that my Dad's called a meeting with Frank.

Anyway, there are three new messages on the answer phone. I have only one guess on who they are from.

"Message 1": _"Gabriella, it's your mother. Just checking that you and Troy are still coming for dinner on Friday? Ring me back as soon as you get this, please."_

Oh damn. I'd actually forgotten about that. What with Dad's company in jeopardy and Matt turning up, something as trivial as Friday night dinner with my parents just went to the back of my mind.

"Message 2": _"Darling, you haven't called me back yet. I do hope you're not ignoring me again. Now come on, I need to know what time to have dinner ready for you."_

And finally, "Message 3": _"Gabi, as I still haven't heard from you I'll just assume that you and Troy will be there on Friday. See you at 7pm – and don't be late, we're having salmon!"_

I don't even like salmon.

Someone's at the door now. Please God don't let it be my mother...

"Hey," says Troy as I open the door. I breathe a loud sigh in relief.

"Hi! Come in," I reply eagerly; but he eyes me carefully. How can someone know you for only a week and a half and yet be able to tell when you're stressed without even asking?

Not that I'm complaining.

"What's up, Gabi?" he asks softly while leading me over to sit down.

I can't help but sigh again. "Do you like salmon?" I blurt out unexpectedly.

He laughs. "Erm...yeah?" he answers in a questioning tone which manages to make _me_ laugh back.

"Mum's serving that when we go over for dinner on Friday," I explain, as if this is supposed to make sense of my mood.

"Okay...lovely. Should I go out and come back in again or have I missed something?" he teases me lightly.

"Sorry, I think I stopped making sense when I hit the answer phone button when I got in. Mum's badgering me to make sure we'll be there."

Troy grins at me. "I take it you're wishing you hadn't said yes to the invitation?"

"Mmm, just a bit," I agree. "Sorry, I doubt you came over to listen to me droning on. Am I right?"

"Come here, you," he says in a tone that suggests I'm being daft. He pulls me towards him for a hug, and I relax.

"So," Troy continues. "Are you ready for part two of date number two?"

"What?" I'm so tired now that I've finally sat down. I really don't think I can get back up again. I accidentally make that feeling clear when I let out a yawn.

He chuckles. "Don't worry, we're not going anywhere. I was thinking...a night in front of the telly?"

I turn around and smile up at him. "Hmm...watching telly on my own with no one to talk to; or watching it with you...you've got my vote!"

And then I promptly fall asleep in his arms.

**Disclaimer: I do not own McDonalds (lol)**

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	16. Salmon With A Hint Of Tension

**Wow. So it's been a month since the last update... Sorry about that, guys - I just haven't been well. Anyway, here is chapter sixteen for you :)**

It's Friday, and I'm sat on the bus thinking about the salmon I _don't_ want for dinner tonight. Then my phone rings. It's my parents' house number.

"Hi, Mum," I answer reluctantly. If I'm seeing her tonight, I can't just keep avoiding her calls.

"Gabriella, it's your father," is the unexpected reply.

Oh. Oh God. What's happened?

"Dad...hi."

"I'd like to talk to you about Troy," he says in a serious tone.

"Okay..." So my father's just been told his new Deputy is planning to betray him, but he calls me up to talk about Troy?

"He and Frank have been to see me about their suspicions over Tim, and I'm not entirely convinced about Troy's side of the story."

I'm almost lost for words. Almost. "What! Why would you say that, Dad?"

"Tim is a very reliable employee, I've never had any reason not to trust him. I know Troy has ambitions to grow in the architect business, so it might be that he's trying to frame Tim..."

"No!" I yell out, then look around me self-consciously when I remember where I am. "That's not true. I was with him when we found the contract, and it was in Tim's office..."

"...and surprisingly easy to find? Exactly – my guess is, it was planted there," my father suggests.

"That's ridiculous, Dad. I _know_ this man's taking you all for a ride. And even if that contract _was_ planted; it's nothing to do with Troy."

His voice is stern now. "I'm not having an argument with you over the phone, Gabriella. I'll see you at dinner tonight."

"You mean it's still on? Even after what you just..."

Oh. He's hung up. What the _hell_ is going on?

Great; this is my stop. The last thing on earth I feel like doing right now is going to work...

_**.HSM.**_

"Gabi, d'you want a cup of tea while you're waiting for Mrs Hughes' hair to dry?"

"Hmm?" I can hear Dani's voice, but I'm not registering what she's asking me.

"I said, do you want a cup of tea?" she repeats patiently.

"Oh, er, yes please."

She flicks the kettle on and turns around to face me again. "Alright, what's wrong?"

"Where do I start? I'm taking Troy to my parents' for dinner tonight, even though my Dad suddenly doesn't like _or_ trust him anymore...oh, and some total _arsehole_ is trying to take over the business!"

Her mouth drops open, but before I can say anything else, I hear Mrs Hughes calling me about the dryer being too hot.

"And all I was really dwelling on when I woke up this morning was stomaching the salmon I have to eat tonight..." I add over my shoulder as I walk out of the back room.

_**.HSM.**_

I never did get a chance to explain my list of multiple dilemmas to Dani today. Maybe she can lend out some advice tomorrow, after I've got through whatever it is that's in store for me tonight...

I've just got back from work, and I'm heading to Troy's flat. I'm guessing he has no idea about Dad's suspicions yet, because he's been working on the buses all afternoon.

I, however, have been stressing out about it all day.

I'm knocking on the door now, and admittedly I probably need to calm down. Just try telling my brain that though.

"Whoa whoa, hey what's going on? Are you alright?" he says as he opens the door.

"Have you spoken to my father today?" I ask, breathless from running up the stairs in my haste.

"Er, no. Why, should I have done?"

"I do believe he's going to eat you alive at dinner tonight," I tell Troy as calmly as I can manage as he lets me in.

"Oh," he replies calmly. "Double-checking I'm suitable enough to date his daughter, I take it?"

"That would be a doddle compared to what he's actually got in mind," I shake my head at him. He looks confused again.

"Gabi, what's going on?"

"He doesn't believe Tim's guilty of any wrongdoing...he thinks _you've_ framed him," I explain, still in disbelief.

Troy's face looks exactly how I imagine mine looked this morning on the bus. Shell-shocked.

"Wha...but I didn't!" are the only words he can manage.

For some bizarre reason, I end up smiling at him. It's the look of vulnerability etched all over his face. "I know that, Troy," I assure him.

"But your Dad doesn't..." he clarifies, looking almost pained by that knowledge. It is then that I realise that Troy really idolises my father.

How can Dad not see that for himself?

"We'll prove him wrong," I announce firmly, standing up.

"How are we going to do that?" he asks. "And how can I still be invited to dinner in this situation?"

"I have no idea whatsoever. About either question, to be honest. But I'm not going to let this happen, Troy."

He stands up to reach me and squeezes my hand. "Well then, we'd better get going," he says with a small smile.

"Okay – I just need to go back to mine and change," I reply, and we leave his flat quickly.

I'm really not in the mood to get dolled up for this dinner; but I can't show up for it in these work clothes.

Although I suppose that would make for some kind of statement in protest...

_**.HSM.**_

Cannot believe it, but I am actually sat in the car wearing another posh dress with stockings. It's like I'm automatically programmed to dress like this when visiting my parents.

"You look great, Gabi," Troy tells me as I fiddle self-consciously with my dress.

I send him a half-smile, even though he's busy concentrating on the road. "Well at least that's something, because I _feel_ full of dread..."

His head turns for just a second, just enough time to catch my eye. "Hey, it'll be okay...somehow."

When he pulls up at the house, I see that my mother has already opened the door. This time there is no smile on her face.

"Oh God..."

"Come on, we can do this." Troy helps me out of the car and drapes an arm around my shoulder as we walk up the path.

"Hi Mum," I say brightly as we reach her. She nods a greeting without saying a word, then moves out of the way to let us both inside. Then I almost jump a foot in the air when I find my Dad waiting for us in the middle of the hallway.

"Dad," is all I can think of to say.

"Troy, Gabriella, come and sit down for a moment, please," he says calmly.

We follow him into the lounge and sit on the sofa side by side. Mum is suddenly nowhere to be seen, and Dad takes a seat opposite us in his usual chair.

The tension here is killing me.

"Now I know this is outside of work hours and in any case, we're not at the office. But I think we can make an exception to deal with this here and now. Especially because you are not just my employee, but also my daughter's boyfriend."

As he speaks, my father's face becomes more and more drained, as though it is exhausting him to say all this. He must really believe that Troy is guilty, otherwise he wouldn't be doing this.

"Troy, I'm going to ask you this only once, and I want an honest answer."

"Yes, sir," Troy nods solemnly. You'd think this actually _was_ their office, the way they're both carrying on here.

"Did you plant the contract in Tim's office?"

"No, I did not. You have my word," he answers without any flicker of hesitation on his features.

My father spends about a minute in silence, considering this.

"I asked Tim point blank about that document, and he said exactly the same thing you did. Tell me, Troy; whose word should I believe?"

Troy doesn't answer straight away; just keeps his gaze fixed on his boss's face. I'm sitting here transfixed, willing the truth to dawn on my Dad.

"I can't make your mind up for you, sir. All I can do is tell you that I mean what I say."

If I were in his shoes, I'd be badmouthing Vile Tim something rotten. But it occurs to me that Troy is much more gracious than I could ever be.

"Well then, I'll see you tomorrow morning in my office, Troy. Nine O' Clock sharp."

Clearly taking that as his cue to leave, Troy nods, then stands up. Without even looking at my father, I get up from my own seat.

"Where are you going, Gabriella?" asks my Dad. I turn around behind Troy, halfway to the door.

"I'm going home, Dad. I don't know why you let us come all this way for that five minute conversation," I reply shortly.

"You are here for dinner, Gabi. I kept to Troy's invitation in order to hear his side of the story."

I can't believe this. "And now you're just going to send him all the way home again?" I ask incredulously.

My father sighs. "Gabriella..."

"No Dad, please just stop. If he has to go, then I'm going too."

He shakes his head, looking even more uncomfortable than he was at the start of this whole exchange. "Then it looks like you've left me no choice. I was trying to go about this delicately, but perhaps you ought to know everything."

I look over at Troy, who looks just as puzzled as I do. Then I turn back to my Dad. "What does _that_ mean?"

"It means that earlier today, I was informed by a solicitor – who happens to be an old friend of mine – that he'd been contacted by one of my employees about taking over the reigns of my company. I've been given a copy of an email that proves the identity of that employee to be Troy."

Okay. I need to sit down before my legs give way.

I drag myself back over to my original chair and almost fall down into it. I want to ask what the hell is going on, but nothing's coming out of my mouth.

Troy's face is as white as a sheet now. He looks like he has a million and one things he wants to say; but like me, no sound will come out.

And then he finds his voice again. "Sir, I don't know what on earth is going on and how I've been implicated, but I have been nowhere near a solicitor and I certainly haven't sent an email to one."

Dad holds up one hand. "Enough. I gave you a chance to tell me the truth tonight, and you have chosen not to do so. We will finish this conversation in the morning."

I want to spring to Troy's defence again; but something is stopping me.

Is it possible that in the two weeks that I've known him, I've fallen so deep that I've been blind to everything else?

I look in his direction, hoping that by seeing his face, I'll have my answer. But he's already gone. Instead, the voice of my mother cuts across the tension in the room.

"Dinner is ready."

There are now two things that I feel physically sick at the thought of. One is that Troy might actually be involved in the scheme to take over my father's business.

And the other? The damn salmon waiting for me in the next room.


	17. Need I Say More?

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews. A few replies first, and then on with the next chapter!**

IslandGem: **Thank you :)**

MGMango: **Ahh thank you, I was going for 'Bridget Jones' style humour, if you've heard of her :)**

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trecker: **I am indeed British – I hope the phrases don't ruin the story for you!**

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I walk inside the dining room and realise there's no way I'll be able to eat a thing, let alone the salmon.

"Sorry mum, I have to go," I say in a rush. I walk out into the hall and grab my coat before she can even blink.

"Gabi, what on earth has come over you? And where's Troy?" she demands, glancing uneasily at my father.

"Exactly," I gesture between them and their silent communication. "Mum, just...ask Dad."

I slip out of the door without waiting for their reactions, then remember that because I didn't go after Troy, I have no way of getting home.

"Are you alright?" A voice makes me jump and I look ahead in the darkness; at which point a pair of car headlights are switched on and Troy comes into view.

"You're still _here_?" I blurt out in shock. "Hey," he says. "If nothing else, I had a feeling you might give up the salmon in favour of coming home. I wasn't going to just leave you stranded!"

Oh God. What do I do? I don't feel right about this. It's like he knows I'm having a wobble about him; but either he doesn't care, or he really is guilty. _Or _he is in fact completely innocent, and the nicest man in the world.

"Oh...erm, thanks," I say eventually. Because whatever it is that's going on; I do want to go home, and here he is offering to take me.

We get in the car amidst an awkward silence. I hate this. How did everything I've gained over the last few weeks turn upside down in the space of just a few minutes?

After a few minutes, Troy lets out a soft sigh. "You think I did it," he states calmly. He doesn't sound angry, just deflated.

I want to shout 'No!' and forget everything that's just happened. But I can't. The fact is, I still hardly know him. Surely it makes sense that I'm starting to have a few doubts. I mean, what am I supposed to think after the bombshell my Dad just dropped?

My head's all over the place. Half my mind is angry at my father for not trusting Troy; and the other half is completely crumbling at the possibility that I've got this gorgeous man all wrong.

I don't know what to tell him. I can't lie.

"I don't know."

He nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. I suppose there's nothing else left to say.

Something was niggling at me before I left Mum and Dads' house. I thought it was the doubt setting in. But now that I've said something about that; this feeling still hasn't gone away.

The conversation is dead. Neither of us is speaking now, and the atmosphere is so strange and tense. By the time Troy pulls up outside our building, I feel like crying.

I'm looking out of the window, facing away from Troy and wondering how to end this...situation, when I spot someone walking along the pavement and coming to a stop. Is that...?

Yes. It's him.

Oh God...

I hear a sudden 'click' and realise that Troy has opened the car door.

"Wait, don't get out of the car!" I half-whisper, half-yell as my head snaps round to look at him.

"What the..."

"Look over there, outside our building...it's Matt!" I tell him hurriedly.

He stares out of my window and his face flashes in recognition. And disgust. "What the hell is he doing here?" he asks, and I shake my head.

"He doesn't know where I live...I don't..." Oh God, I'm going to have another breakdown. Can this night get any worse?

"Shh, it's okay," Troy whispers gently, suddenly taking my hands in his. His voice is calm and gentle, and I realise how much I've missed that; even though it only disappeared for an hour at the most.

Matt's still there. How the hell are we going to get inside without him seeing, if he's not going to move? I cannot face him again. I just can't. At least not without a _lot _of alcohol inside me first.

"Right, that's it. You stay here, I'll be back," Troy says, squeezing my hand.

"What? No, wait..."

But he's already shutting the door, walking around the car and striding over to my ex-husband. He approaches him politely, from what I can gather – obviously trying to charm him into leaving quietly. But Matt's having none of it. He's looking over at the car now.

And now he's spotted me. He's smirking away without a care in the world.

Right. I'm not having this. Not anymore.

With a sudden determination that comes completely out of nowhere, I open my door and walk over to stand at Troy's side. I'm facing Matt, and his face reels in shock at my stance.

"You were saying?" I ask, daring him to carry on with whatever he was saying to Troy before I turned up.

After a minute, the look on his face is replaced with that disgusting smirk again. "Well, don't you scrub up well when you make the effort," he husks, making me feel physically sick.

I feel Troy tense up beside me and, without thinking, I reach out to put a hand on his back to calm him. I don't need a fight breaking out over this.

Besides, Matt's not worth the bother.

"I have no idea how you found out where I live; but you've got no right to be here, so just leave now," I say firmly, even though I can feel myself starting to shake.

"I have my sources," he answers in response to finding me. Sources? Who would tell him? _Who?_ "But hang on a minute," he adds. "If I'd known you'd end up looking like _this_, I never would've divorced you!"

"And if I'd known you would turn out to be such a shallow excuse for a man I would never have married _you_," I say calmly. "Now please leave."

Matt starts to laugh – and not in a harmless, amused way. "You've certainly changed, Brie. Did you turn into a snob at the same time as losing all that weight?"

I flinch at his nasty assumptions, and that old nickname that I never liked even when we were together. Troy grabs my hand, gives it a comforting squeeze and steps forward.

"That's enough. I suggest you go back to wherever you came from before I call the police."

Matt laughs again. "I think you're wasting your time there, mate. I haven't done anything wrong here."

"Let's get a few things straight," Troy asserts. "I'm _not_ your 'mate', and right now you're verging on harassment and verbal abuse charges, so don't think I won't make that call."

"Fine, whatever, I'm going. But watch out, _mate. _Before you know it she'll be the size of a house again and you'll wish you'd never got involved with her."

I can't even believe anyone could be this cruel. My hand comes loose of Troy's grasp as he moves even closer to Matt, and for a moment I think he's going to hit him.

"What I wish is that she'd never had the misfortune of being with someone like you. With that kind of attitude you are going to be a very lonely, sad little man. But that's not Gabriella's problem. So I suggest you get the hell out of here, and _don't_ come back."

I'm expecting Matt to make another comment, but he says nothing. It's probably because Troy's face is so hard and so..._fierce_; I never expected this outcome in a million years.

My ex-husband takes one last look at the both of us, then backs away before turning around and sloping off. I let out a long, shaky breath of relief and try to keep calm about what just happened.

"Are you okay?" Troy's face is a world away from the look he confronted Matt with just minutes ago; now it's creased with concern as his hand cups my cheek.

"Errrr..." I'm not really sure how I am right now. Nor am I sure how I'm still managing to stand upright. I'm just...numb.

"Let's get you inside, it's freezing out here." I give up on thinking altogether and just let him lead me into our building, up the stairs and then into his flat.

I sit down on his sofa while he makes us hot drinks; and only then, in one of those random, delayed reactions, do I let out an embarrassingly loud sob that causes Troy to come rushing out from the kitchen.

He doesn't say anything, just sits next to me and pulls me to him.

Oh God, why can't I stop crying?

Apparently I said that out loud. "It's alright," Troy says. "Just let it out. I'll be here."

So that's what we do. I keep crying until there are no more tears left; and he stays with me.

By the time I can form a coherent sentence again, all I can think of to say is thank you.

The phone starts ringing before he can answer, but he doesn't move to pick it up. "The answering machine is on if it's anything important," he says by way of an explanation.

Right on cue, his machine clicks on and I distract myself by listening in on the message with Troy.

"Troy...it's Richard Montez. This isn't something I wanted to tell you over the phone, much less an answering machine, but it has to be said sooner rather than later. I was wrong. I've just had a call from Frank, and he's...well, he's made a discovery about Tim. I'll talk to you about that in the office in the morning. The bottom line is: I'm sorry, son."

My head is spinning. Tim's been found out? How did that...and oh my God, I owe Troy a _massive_ apology. What the hell am I going to say now?

I am _so_ close to bursting into fresh tears.

If only I hadn't wavered tonight. If only I'd trusted my first instincts. What a bloody idiot.

"I am _so_ sorry, Troy," I whisper, mortified.

"It doesn't matter now," he replies, linking our hands together. He's smiling, though he looks as tired as I am. I wonder what means more to him after that message: the fact that my Dad believes him or the fact that he just called him 'son'.

"Yes it does. It matters because you just stood up for me without question, and you've just spent the last hour or so looking after me and when it really came down to it I couldn't do the same for you and..."

I have to shut up mid-sentence when Troy rests a finger on my lips. "Gabi, you _did _stand up for me tonight. You spoke up for me in front of your father. Stop being so hard on yourself."

I can't accept what he's telling me. "But then I..."

"Then you heard something suspicious, and it made you question how you felt about me," he interrupts quite casually.

Well, yes. That's basically what happened. But I won't confirm it out loud.

"After the performance that ex-husband of yours just put on down there, no one in the world would blame you for being wary."

He totally gets it. Now I really _might_ cry again.

"The thing is," I manage. "I was worried because I just trusted you from the word go...and when my dad came out with all that stuff about a solicitor, and that email...I wondered whether I'd missed something because I was so busy falling in..."

Oh. Wait. Was I really about to say what I _think_ I was about to say?

Yeah. I was. Sod it, I'm just going to say it now. It's the truth.

"Gabi?"

"Troy, I think I...I mean I _know _I do, I just don't know how to say it..."

His eyebrows raise in confusion. "You know you do...what?"

What the hell is wrong with me? That sentence made no sense whatsoever. I left out the most important word.

"I love you," I finally say, surprised by how good it feels to hear myself say the words. Even if I'm the one saying it first. Even if he doesn't say it back.

"I love you too."

Oh, thank God he said it back! Suddenly it feels like all of tonight's unanswered questions don't matter right now. They'll matter in the morning; but not now. Now, I'm just going to stay happy.

And here come the tears...

I'm not looking at his face, but I suspect his eyebrows are so high now that they're hidden beneath his hair. "Hey, why...?"

"Because you love me," my voice chokes out pathetically. Honestly, you'd think I was a teenager again, rather than a twenty-nine year old woman who's finally said goodbye to singledom. In my embarrassment, I get up and wander over to put our cups in the kitchen.

Troy's laughing now. "And is that so hard to believe?"

Spookily, and as if to illustrate my point, one of Troy's cups fall out of my hands (okay, so I _drop_ it) and lands on the floor with a crash.

I rest a hand on my hip and look over at him. "Need I say more?"

I hope that mug wasn't sentimental...


	18. The Truth Hurts

**Hello! I know, I know, it's been far too long...I just got my laptop back from repair today (finally) and of course this latest chapter was on it, so I had to wait. Anyway, this story won't be dragged out too much longer – sorry about the wait, and here's chapter eighteen :)**

I wake up the next morning tucked up safely in Troy's arms, feeling quite content. Until I feel him starting to get up.

"Troy, what day is it?" I ask, my voice muffled. I know the answer perfectly well, but I'm trying to make a point here.

"It's Saturday," he answers in an amused tone, punctuating the end of his sentence with a kiss on my head.

"Exactly. So it's against the law to get up early."

"That's what people say about Sundays, Gabi," he reminds me with a laugh. "Anyway, I have to go and meet your dad at the office, remember?"

Damn. I did a really good job of forgetting about everything from last night, didn't I?

"You know, I'm sure you don't really have to go in _today_. Only workaholics like Dad visit their offices at the weekend," I tease with a grin. I want a few more minutes of banter before I have to think about anything else. "Besides, now he knows the truth!"

Troy smiles and starts getting ready. "Yep. But we still don't know how Tim got found out, so..."

And that's all it takes for me to jump up and start throwing on my clothes. "Oh right! Somehow I'd blocked that part out...I'm going to have to come in with you, Troy - I want to hear this too."

He simply chuckles as he watches me running around his flat like a mad woman, finding all of my things.

_**.HSM.**_

Dad looks sheepish as Troy opens the door of his office. But he looks even worse when he spots me following in behind him.

"Ah. Good morning, Troy. Gabriella..."

"Hi Dad," I smile casually at him. "Don't mind me, I'm just here to find out the news first-hand."

He raises his eyebrows, but says nothing more to me. Probably wondering how I managed to get up so early after working all week.

It was worth it to know we were going to find out how Tim got caught.

"Well then, you'll be wanting to know exactly what happened last night."

Er, yes!

"Frank came by the office last night, and while he was picking up some paperwork, Tim's wife phoned. She said her husband left his email account open at home."

I can see where this is going. But really, how much of an idiot _is_ this man? He's not very good at covering his tracks – otherwise we wouldn't have been suspicious of him in the first place!

"Mrs Morris came in this morning to give me the printed copies of all the emails. There were quite a few, as it turns out." Dad's tone is morose as he drops the pile of papers on his desk in front of us.

I daren't crack a smile in relief, and neither does Troy as he speaks up.

"So Tim must have..."

"Hacked into your company email account and framed you, yes. I'm afraid so. I owe you one very large apology, Troy," says Dad.

"It's okay, I understand," he nods.

It's not okay really. Not in my book. But I haven't got the heart to have another go at my father. It's not like he's not suffering for it.

"Well, I won't take up any more of your time on your day off – go and take my daughter out somewhere nice, will you?" He's teasing now, and I inwardly cringe at his attempt at a joke.

But as usual, Troy takes it in his stride. "Oh, I intend to sir," he beams proudly.

"If you want to take these emails to read over, be my guest," Dad suggests, picking up the thick pile and offering it to him. "You deserve to know exactly how Tim tried to set you up, and what for. He sent a number of messages to people from his home account, and even those ones detailed how he was posing as you via a work email address." He shakes his head in disbelief.

"Thanks," Troy takes the stack from him, and we turn to leave.

"I'll be talking to the little sod later on – it'll be interesting to see how he tries to wriggle his way out of it. I'll keep you informed, son. Off you go now. And Gabriella?" he gestures for me to walk over to him while Troy waits outside.

"I'm sorry," he tells me, patting me on the arm.

Well, that must have taken a lot for him to say to my face.

"I know how much you like Troy. And you trusted in him when I didn't. I know that was a big thing for you, after losing Matt..."

_Losing_ him? God, one day I'm going to have to tell him and Mum everything. They think I'm still broken-hearted and that Matt was the love of my life. I was too embarrassed to tell my parents that I should never have married him in the first place because he's a nasty piece of work.

But anyway...

"You don't have to say all this. It's alright. But...thanks. The thing is, I don't just like Troy. I love him, Dad."

Now I've surprised him. See? He must have thought I really wasn't over Matt.

"Well. I see. And he feels the same way?"

A smile creeps up on me as I turn to see Troy loitering outside the office.

"Yes, he does," I reply.

My father smiles back. "Then I'm very happy for you."

A conversation of very few words; but it's one of the most sentimental moments I've had with one of my parents in years. Wow. "Bye, Dad."

Troy's gaze is questioning as I walk out to meet him, and we head out of the building and back to his car.

"My Dad is happy for me. Well, for us," I say. It's more like a statement than it is an answer.

"You sound surprised," he chuckles.

"Well, it's just that for years, I haven't seen eye to eye with my parents and now...now it's as if they've finally accepted my own choices. I never told them what really happened with Matt because they _told_ me not to get married so young and I never listened. And then look what happened."

Troy shakes his head as we reach the car and sit down. "How were you to know what was coming? The important thing is that you came through it. You should tell your Mum and Dad – I'll be there with you, if you want me to be."

"That'll be a very awkward conversation. But thanks, - I'll think about it," I tell him. "So, where are we going now?"

"Taking you somewhere nice," he recites Dad's words as he starts up the car. "Not sure where yet though!"

"Shall we start with breakfast? I'm starving," I reply.

He chuckles, then nods his head. "Okay. Breakfast it is!"

_**.HSM.**_

By the late afternoon, I receive an unexpected phone call just as Troy decides to go back to the office to find out Tim's fate – taking all the paperwork with him to read up on.

It turns out to be Sophie Morris.

"I just wanted to call because I'm guessing that by now, you've heard all about what Tim's been up to," she says, getting straight to the point.

"Er, yeah..." I reply awkwardly. "Troy and I were at the office this morning. My father told us it was you who alerted them to what was going on."

"Yes. I can assure you I had no idea until last night, when I came across all those emails. How is Troy? I'm still in shock to think that my husband is capable of all this," Sophie sighs.

"Troy's fine, really. Listen, are you free this afternoon? Do you fancy going for a late lunch? You sound as though you need a bit of cheering up."

The words flow from me without a second thought. This poor woman is already upset enough; I can't bear to imagine what it would do to her if she found out what _else_ Tim has been getting up to.

Sophie finally agrees to meet me after I manage to assure her that it's no trouble. So we end up at the same café we went to the other day.

"Hi," she greets me as I spot her, already sitting at a table outside. Her smile is as sincere as ever; but she looks tired.

I sit down and smile back. "Hi. Are you...alright?"

"Well, I think so," she replies. "Tim left before lunch – said he had to go to the office to do some paperwork. I didn't have the energy to let on that I know everything."

_Well, not quite everything, _I can't help thinking. "Yeah, Dad said he'd be talking to him at some point today."

"I keep thinking back over the last few months, when he told me he had to work late. I've barely seen him. And all this time he was plotting to take over your father's business and ruin him. I mean, we live comfortably enough – it's not as if we needed the money. Money that's not his to take charge of!"

I can't quite manage a reply yet. If that man has been neglecting his wife, it certainly isn't just due to the deceit against Troy and my father.

Suddenly I can no longer take it. Poor Sophie can't be having much of a life with this pathetic excuse for a man. If I'm supposed to be a friend to her, perhaps I should start by doing what any other true friend _would_ do.

By telling her the truth.

"Listen, Sophie. There's something you should know..."

I look up at her curious face, but am then distracted by an ear-piercing shriek of laughter a few tables away. From where I'm sitting, I have a perfect view. I can see exactly where the noise is coming from. A man and a woman have just sat down together, and the woman – blonde, short skirt, pencil-thin – is cackling away at something he has said to her.

Sophie doesn't bother to turn around, but tuts at the loud interruption. "It's impossible to have a peaceful lunch out sometimes, isn't it? Sorry Gabi, what were you going to say?"

"Er..." My eyes have averted from her face yet again, because I have suddenly realised who the man at that table is.

That probably has something to do with the fact that he's heading inside - giving me the chance to get a closer look at him.

When he vanishes from sight, I turn my attention back to Sophie and clear my throat.

"I really need to tell you something; and in the last few minutes it's gone from being awkward to quite urgent. It's about your husband - and this time it's not about the business."

Her mouth drops open in shock; and as she is clearly speechless, I carry on – keeping my eye on the door to make sure Vile Tim hasn't returned yet. He hasn't.

"He came into my salon the day of that dinner party - before I even knew who he was - and tried his best to chat me up. I said no. But then of course, he turned out to be working for my father. I've been wanting to tell you since I met you, to be honest, but I felt that it wasn't my place to..."

"I don't know why you're saying these things to me, Gabriella, but my husband's not like that. He wouldn't cheat – we're about to have a baby, for goodness' sake!" I wince at her offended tone.

"I'm so sorry, Sophie. But it's the truth. The last thing I want to do is distress you, but I think it's important that I tell you now. I've just seen him. He's here. With another woman," I tell her.

At that moment, I spot Tim walking back to his table. By the time Sophie pulls herself together enough to turn around - daring to check whether what I'm telling her could really be true – he has slipped back into his seat and she has a clear view of him.

It happens so fast. One minute she is turning back to me, eyes widened in shock; the next she has hoisted herself out of her chair in one angry movement and is storming towards her husband and his 'other woman'.

A part of me wants to follow her to make sure she doesn't collapse with the stress, and also to watch what happens. But it's not my place; and I have a feeling I'll be able to hear everything from here regardless.

"So, _this _is what you've been doing with your time, is it? Oh, along with dabbling in a bit of dodgy dealing!" Sophie's voice is loud enough to halt every other conversation outside the café, and I see everyone's heads jerk in the direction of a heavily pregnant woman who doesn't care who hears her upcoming rant.

Vile Tim is standing up, a sheepish smile on his face. "Darling! This really isn't what you..."

"Oh, don't tell me! This is a client? An old friend? A lost-lost sister? I think not. I don't know how you even have the nerve to lie to my face yet again. I'm pregnant, not a moron."

The woman at his table stands up next. "Excuse me, but who are _you_?"

"Well, this just gets better by the minute. I'm his _wife_, and by the look on your face I gather he never told you he was married with a baby on the way," states Sophie.

Wow. I was worried that my revelation would cause her to crumble on the spot; but she's really going for it over there. I doubt Tim Morris has ever been spoken to like that in his life. Mind you, I have yet to find out what my father said to him earlier.

The woman doesn't waste any time in making her exit; but by this point Tim's attention is nowhere near her anyway.

"Darling, why don't we go somewhere private and have a talk..."

"You know what, _darling_? Let's not." And with that, she picks up the bottle of wine that's been placed on Tim's table – conveniently already opened before this little scene unfolded – and pours its contents all over his head.

He screeches out as she slams the bottle back down on the table, and tries to run after her. But for a pregnant woman Sophie moves remarkably fast. She has already reached me by the time her husband can see straight again.

She grabs her bag from her seat and storms out, and I stand up and follow her out. We both ignore Tim as he yells after her, and finally come to a stop as we reach her car. I'm breathless by this point, having had to run to catch up with Sophie (while also wanting to get as far away from that man as possible myself).

She looks at me as if to ask that I come with her, so I nod and we get in. She drives away just as Vile Tim comes into view, trying and failing to chase after his wife.

"Come on," I say gently. "Let's go back to my flat – I'll show you the way."

_**.HSM.**_

Sophie left an hour ago, saying she would head over to stay the night with her sister who lives nearby – she didn't feel up to returning to the house tonight, or seeing _him_.

In the end she actually thanked me for telling her the truth, even though it's clearly broken her heart. I really feel for her; I know exactly what it's like. I was just lucky I didn't have any kids with Matt that would have kept me tied to him for the rest of my life.

Troy's been here ever since he returned from the office with the news that Tim has been well and truly sacked. Not that the man was bothered too much. Nor was he in the least bit sorry for what he'd done. I'd thought as much when I'd spotted him looking care-free in that café.

"The man _actually_ tried to make the emails look like I wrote them...unbelievable!" Troy is saying.

"What an..."

"...Arsehole," he finishes for me, grinning despite the subject at hand.

"Hang on a..." my voice falters as I spot something on the pile of emails in front of us. It's the name in the solicitor's email address.

Troy leans over and puts his hand on mine. "Gabi? Everything okay?"

"The name on the..." I now seem to be incapable of finishing a sentence. "I think it's Matt." I realise that I'm still making very little sense; but I'm half stunned, half angry at myself for not making this connection sooner!

"What do you mean?"

I take a deep breath and try again. "Matt – he's a solicitor." I can't believe this didn't cross my mind before.

Troy's eyes widen as he scans the papers again, then looks back at me. "You mean _he's _been behind all this too?"

"Well, I know the email address doesn't include his surname but...I've got a very strong feeling all of a sudden. And I wouldn't put anything past him." In the next second I've jumped up from the sofa and grabbed the phone. "I'm going to call my dad."

After a couple of rings, my mother answers. When she realises that it's me, she tries to bombard me with questions – it's as if she thinks I'm never going to call the house ever again!

Well, okay. I _never _call my parents. But that's not the point; now is _not_ the time for Mum to be so...Mum. "Look, I can't talk right now, can you _please_ just put Dad on the phone? It's urgent."

My tone obviously does the trick, because half a minute later my father is on the line.

"Gabriella?" He sounds more than a bit confused. As well he might, since I don't even phone to say 'hello' on a whim, let alone to have a go at him.

I compose my response carefully; but deep down I'm already certain that I'm right. "Dad, please tell me that this solicitor friend of yours is not my ex-husband?"

The silence I get in return is enough to confirm what I already knew.

And now everything is starting to fall into place...


	19. Boss Or No Boss

**Thank you so much for your reviews and supportive comments about this story and my writing. Here's the next chapter! **

So it's Sunday morning and I'm in Troy's car. We're on our way to my parents' house, where I know I'll end up confronting my father.

There's a part of me that doesn't even _want_ to know what part Matt has been playing in this evil plan. But I have to find out anyway.

"Gabi?" Troy's voice brings me out of my thoughts. "We're here. Are you alright?"

_No. My Dad's been on speaking terms with my horrible ex-husband for who knows how long and never bothered to tell me. _"Yeah," I answer quietly.

He turns off the engine and turns to survey my face. I shouldn't have bothered lying. "Hey, look at me," he says gently, and I do.

"Whatever happens today, you still have me. I won't let Matt have anything to do with you again. I promise," he tells me.

And I know he means it.

I feel some strength coming my way as he squeezes my hand reassuringly. Maybe I _can_ go in there, speak my mind and then leave with my emotions still intact.

Okay. At the very least, I can just go in there and speak my mind...

_**.HSM.**_

Well, I'm back at the flat. Troy has an early shift on the buses in the morning, so I eventually managed to persuade him to go home and get some sleep. Otherwise I feared I would bore him to tears all night with my droning on...it's a miracle I haven't done so already. He'd been here with me all day, ever since we got back from my mum and dad's after lunch.

Not that we actually _had_ any lunch.

I told my parents everything. I had to; it became evident that they'd spent all these years believing that Matt was equivalent to the Boy Wonder. Which is ironic, given that they weren't exactly keen on him when we first got together.

After Mum had let Troy and I into the house, I practically stormed through to the living room to find Dad sitting there waiting for me.

"How long have you been in touch with him?" I blurted out. Troy and my mother were stood some way behind me. I had no idea what her reaction was – or even how much she knew.

My father had no need to ask me for any clarification. "I bumped into him in town a few weeks ago and we got talking. And then he got in touch on Friday to let me know about what was going on. Really, Gabriella – it's nothing to get upset over."

I wanted to scream. But instead I sat down and looked at him in as calm a manner as I could manage. However this was nothing like what was going on in my brain. "Nothing to get _upset_ ov-" I had to stop the sentence in it's tracks and start again. It wouldn't have done me any good. "I have so much to say about this that I don't know where to start."

At this point, Troy came to sit down next to me, taking my hand in his for the second time today. My mother, meanwhile, was still rooted to her spot by the door with a fixed hostess smile – but her eyes gave away her shock and confusion.

Troy's comforting gesture soothed me for a few moments until I was able to talk. "Did it not occur to you, Dad, that Matt could be in on Tim's plan to take over the business? He did draw up that preliminary contract."

He chuckled as if this was the most ridiculous idea he'd ever heard. "Gabi, dear, Matthew phoned me himself to inform me about the situation."

"Yes, but not before he'd drawn up the paperwork. And even if phoning you meant he'd changed his mind about going through with it, he obviously still wanted you to believe that Troy was guilty!"

Dad looked at me curiously. "What makes you say that? I know you were far too young getting married the way you did; and I gathered you didn't split on the best of terms, but he's a decent enough lad."

_Great_,I thought. Either Matt's a very gifted actor or my Dad is completely clueless. Or maybe it's both.

"No, he isn't. And saying we didn't split up on the 'best of terms' is a huge understatement. I think it's about time I told you and Mum the truth." I glanced at Troy, who gave me an encouraging smile.

All of a sudden my mother came to life, perching on the other armchair. "What on earth are you talking about?" she asked, her face looking very small and pinched close up.

"I let you both think we got divorced because we grew apart. Well, what really happened was that Matt walked out on me without having the decency to tell me first."

You could've heard a pin drop in my parents' lounge at this point, the room was so quiet.

Then came Mum's nervous laughter. "No...I don't believe it, you would've told us if that were true," she insisted as my father looked on in shock.

"I was too embarrassed to admit you were right. Because I really wish I'd never married him. You've got no idea how much," I replied, shaking my head.

"What exactly do you mean by 'he walked out'?" Dad finally asked.

"I _mean_, he left the marital home completely out of the blue, Dad. There were no discussions where we sat down and said: 'okay, that's it, marriage over'. Do you want to know _why_ he left?"

My parents gaped at me as if to say, _'obviously!'_ and I let out a sigh.

"He left me because – and I quote – I was fat."

I felt Troy flinch beside me at the words, but he didn't let go of my hand. In fact, by the time I'd finished explaining the breakdown of my marriage, he'd become involved in the conversation himself.

"If you'd told me Matt had been in the area, maybe I wouldn't have had such a meltdown last week, when he turned up while _we_ were in the pub," I said, gesturing towards Troy.

"You had a _meltdown_?" my mother asked. I have to say, they really weren't helping matters by repeating everything that came out of my mouth.

"I've met him twice now," Troy put in. "Once in that pub; the second time outside our building. If you could've seen the way he spoke to Gabi...the way he spoke _about_ her..."

"Oh my God," I interrupted when another thought struck me. "Dad, did you...did you tell Matt where I live?"

My father's face was considerably paler than it had been when I first arrived, and now he looked away uncomfortably. "He asked how you were and if you were still living locally. I didn't see any harm in telling him..."

I stood up, boiling with anger. "He turned up at my building on Friday night hurling insults at us!" I shouted, no longer able to control my emotions.

"Gabi, if you'd only have _told _us what had happened between you two...I mean, if I'd have known what he was really-"

"No!" I cut him off, then took a deep breath to steady myself. "Maybe I should have said something before. But you two made me feel like such an _outsider_ when I married him that I was just too mortified to admit that the whole thing had failed."

"Gabriella, calm down," Mum piped up. But there wasn't much that could have shut me up by that point.

"It doesn't matter what you _didn't_ know," I continued ranting at my Dad. "What you did know was that I hadn't had any contact with Matt since the divorce; but you were still happy to talk to him. Yet you didn't say a word to me about it. Not one word."

The silence lasted about two minutes before my father piped up again. "So, it's entirely possible that Matt was involved in Tim's plan to take over the company..."

I wasn't sure whether this was a musing, a statement; or in fact a question he wanted answering. Either way, I didn't care anymore.

"Is that really all you've got to say?" I asked. I was on the verge of tears now. "You've given that man the information he needs to stalk me whenever he feels like it, and all you can think about is the business? Which, by the way, is still yours thanks to us!"

"Gabi, I'm sure he won't _stalk _you. Especially now that you have Troy to..."

But I didn't stop to hear the rest of my Dad's sentence. I was already walking away, with Troy following close behind. I'd just reached the front door when I realised that he had stopped in the doorway of the living room. I didn't go and get him, though. Instead I stood and listened.

"Mr Montez, perhaps I have no right to say this to you. But I'm going to do it anyway; and hopefully you'll understand that I'm speaking as your daughter's boyfriend, and not your employee." Troy's voice was polite, yet firm. My jaw almost hit the floor in shock. As if I hadn't had enough of that already.

My father, it seemed, wasn't going to stop him from speaking his mind. So I waited as Troy continued his speech.

"Gabriella was the one who worked out that Tim was planning something, and she did all she could to find out what that was, so you wouldn't lose your business. She did that for _you_; and now what she really needs is your support. Thanks to her ex-husband and the things he's said to her; she doesn't believe it when people tell her how brilliant she is. To be honest, Mr and Mrs Montez, I'm wondering whether either of _you_ even realise that."

I didn't hang around to hear my parents' response to _that_. Though to be fair, I was so stunned that I had to rush outside to get some air. God knows what else was said in there, because it was another two minutes before Troy reappeared.

He studied my tear stained face for a moment, but seemed to sense that I didn't want to talk about it yet. What he didn't know was that after what I'd just heard, I was physically incapable of talking anyway.

We got inside his car in silence, and while he started up the car, all I could think was that I'd only known this man for two weeks and he'd done more for me in that time than my ex-husband ever did throughout our entire relationship.

I mean, bloody hell...

Suddenly I realised that the engine was running, but Troy had stopped the car halfway down the road. And he was looking at me.

"Did you hear any of..."

I smiled at him. "That stuff you said to my Dad just now? Yeah."

"Are you angry with me? I know it wasn't my place but..."

And then, before he could finish; I wiped a stray tear from my face, leaned over and kissed him.

"So I'm guessing you're _not_ angry, then?" Troy asked, grinning at me as we broke apart.

"I love you," I blurted out, moving towards him again for a hug.

He chuckled as he put his arms around me. "I love you too, Gabi. You know, I'd do all that again for you – boss or no boss."

This time I was the one to laugh. My emotions have been all over the place today. This has just been the most _dramatic_ weekend...

"Thank you," I told him before we left for home.

So now I'm sitting here, nursing half a glass of wine and starting to get sleepy.

Hang on...

Oh God, what's that?

Someone's banging on my door. Whoever they are, they'd better have a good reason for this...


	20. He's A Keeper

**Sorry, I know this is looong overdue, guys! But there is only an epilogue to go after this chapter, so if you're still with me, I hope you all enjoy chapter twenty...**

Oh God Oh God Oh God...

"Open this door, Brie! It seems you've got the wrong impression of me, and you've been spreading it around a bit, haven't you?"

Matt's voice is so loud and menacing that I flinch even though I can't see him. I don't know what to do. I'm paralysed by shock. Or fear...

More banging. Oh _God_...

"It'd be a _very_ good idea to let me in now, Brie. I think it's time I set you straight on a few things."

I don't know what it is about that sentence that snaps me out of it; but suddenly I'm opening the door.

"Get out of this building. _Now_."

And he just laughs in my face. "Not happening until you hear me out. So are you going to let me in?"

"Like hell I am."

The next thing I know is that Matt has grabbed me roughly by the shoulders, and I'm yelping out in pain.

"I know you've been telling your father lies about me – I've just got off the phone to him. So I think we need to sort this out, don't you?"

"Get _off_ me!"

He won't let go of me, and all I can think is that I chose a _really_ bad night to make Troy go home. Why why why...

"Let her go, _now_!"

_Troy..._

He's by my side in seconds, pushing Matt away with one smooth shove before quickly guiding me inside. But before I can shut the door, the police approach us.

I can't take in what they're saying. I'm too busy trying to hold myself together – although this isn't hard because Troy has yet to release me from the security of his arms.

One of the officers grabs Matt and handcuffs him, while the other is talking urgently to Troy. Then he tries talking to me.

"Please, not now," I hear Troy saying back calmly. And as my ex-husband is led away, he shuts the door just as I let go of him and sink to the ground.

"Gabi? _Gabi!_"

He thinks I've fainted, but it isn't that. I'm just not capable of keeping it together any longer. Everything happened so fast and now my head is spinning.

I make what can only be described as a strange moaning noise, and he picks me up and carries me to the sofa.

"I'm okay, Troy," I manage to croak out, purely to reassure him. "I just..." but I can't seem to finish my thought process, because my eyes are drooping. My head won't let up and I can't focus.

"I..."

"Shh, just rest for a bit, okay? I'll still be here when you wake up," he tells me softly. He presses a kiss to my forehead, and I drift off thinking that maybe when I wake up this will all have been a dream.

_**.HSM.**_

Oh damn. It wasn't a dream.

To be fair, it could've been a lot worse.

I woke up again at about 2am; and as promised, Troy was still with me. He hadn't even slept himself; just sat on the sofa and wrapped his arms around me. So when I opened my eyes, he noticed straight away.

"So how did you know to call the police? Did you hear me shouting?" I asked him in confusion. All I could remember was the police turning up within seconds of him.

"Gabi...it was actually your father that called the police. He called Matt to confront him about the business and when you were mentioned...well, your Dad got worried that he would come after you."

So my father finally saw the light – it's just a shame it took a scary situation to get him there.

Troy ran a hand through his hair as he talked. "I heard movement outside my flat and saw the police heading upstairs; then I heard you screaming and I just ran. That's why I beat them here."

I sighed and fell back against the sofa. "Well...thank you for looking after me. Again. Or should I say rescuing me - drama seems to be following me around a lot lately."

He picked up both of my hands and then seemed to register what I'd already known – that my hands were shaking again.

"Hey, I hope you don't think that's going to scare me away?"

I shook my head, but by now he knows me too well.

"Because just so you know, I'm quite happy to spend the rest of my life looking after you. Although I'm not planning on letting anyone get to you like that ever again. So much for the last time I promised you that - if only I _had _called the police like I..."

But I cut him off before he could _really_ start blaming himself. "Troy, stop. This is _not_ your fault. I should never have opened the door to him. I don't even know how he managed to get inside."

Troy let out a sigh. "The police knocked on the door while you were sleeping earlier. I went outside so we wouldn't wake you," he added when he saw my look of confusion.

"One of the officers stayed behind to question some of the neighbours. It turns out that a guy who lives on this floor was coming home from the pub and let Matt in when he got back to the building. Apparently Matt told him he was here to visit 'a friend'."

Great. 'A guy' coming back from the pub. I bet I know which one, too. The one who is about eighteen but only looks about twelve (in my opinion, anyway); and is often so drunk at night that he'd probably even let in a blatant killer without batting an eyelid.

Well, at least he _remembered_ letting in an intruder.

Bloody idiot...

We both fell asleep again soon after talking it all through – Troy refused to leave me on my own again, so instead I made us move from the sofa and into my bedroom, where we crashed out straight away.

When I woke up a few hours later, I toyed with the idea of phoning Dani to say I couldn't go into work. But then the more depressing idea of sitting in the flat and dwelling on the drama that is my life was enough to convince me that actually, working would be better.

I assured Troy that I would be okay, and sent him off to his shift on the buses – his day started a few hours earlier than mine.

When he'd gone, I shocked myself by getting ready at a speed that usually took a miracle for me.

And then, with half an hour to spare before I had to leave for the bus stop - and _that _was something I thought would never happen – I forced myself to stop and sit down.

And that was when the phone rang.

"Gabriella? The police called to tell me what happened...are you alright?"

"Dad," was all I got out before I started sobbing.

_**.HSM.**_

Note to self: when your friends text to ask how you are, do _not _reply telling them your ex turned up at the flat last night and that the night ended with the police turning up.

Because this then results in a stream of endless phone calls. And it's not that I'm not grateful for the support, because I am. But I'm _trying_ to have a normal day. I'm trying to _forget_ about the fact that my shoulders are slightly sore with bruising.

"I'll bloody well kill him!" was Shar's reaction.

Ryan was less about the violence and more about the sympathy – for once, he had no reason to tease me.

But then Sophie's call was so sweet and well-meaning that it actually got me to stop feeling sorry for myself. After everything Tim's put _her_ through, she's still sparing a thought for me.

"You see?" says Dani as I relay that conversation with Sophie back to her. "Some people don't have a Troy in their lives to look after them – you're a lucky girl."

It's nearly time to go home – we're just waiting for Mrs Rigby's set to dry. Even though I finished my last client an hour ago and the salon is spotless, I'm still here chatting to Dani.

"I know. But what if one day he gets fed up of having to protect me all the time? And I'm not just talking about nasty exes – I mean the everyday things like falling down stairs, and tripping over my own feet!"

"Hmm..." she replies, her face changing suddenly. "Well, I don't know Gabi, you're just _so _clumsy and careless – I think you're going to have to seek professional help..."

My jaw drops. "_What_ did you just...? Dani, you're supposed to be my friend! You're supposed to tell me that..."

Hang on a second, is she laughing at me?

I narrow my eyes at her as she walks past me to check on Mrs Rigby's hair, and then I turn around.

Leaning very casually against one of the basin chairs is Troy.

"Did you put her up to that?" I ask incredulously as I walk over to him.

He smirks. "Actually, no. I just walked in and mimed at her to keep quiet. That little speech was all her. I can't believe you fell for it, though..."

Yes, well, I fall for anything, don't I?

Troy's face has that serious look on it again, the one I'm getting used to. I don't know if I'm in the right mood for him to broach the subject of what he might have overheard.

Ok. What he probably _did_ overhear.

"Gabi, I am _not_ going to leave you because you're clumsy," he tells me bluntly before taking my hand to lead me out the door.

Before we can move or _I_ can comment, Mrs Rigby pats me on the shoulder.

"Hold on to that one, dear," she says, gesturing over to Troy. "He's a keeper."

Dani winks at me, Troy chuckles and grins at her; and as for _me_, I'm pretty sure I'm blushing.

"Thanks Mrs R – I will," I promise her as we wave our goodbyes and leave the salon.

He's still laughing as we get into his car.

"You _do_ realise I'm going to get you back for calling me clumsy?" I tell him jokingly, in a hopeful attempt to avoid the main point of his statement.

He only hesitates for a few seconds – obviously he can sense that I don't want a deep and meaningful discussion right now. We can save that for tomorrow, when I'm going to have to talk to the police about Matt.

"Hey, can't you let me off?" Troy begs mockingly. "You heard the lady in there – I'm a catch!"

"That's not what she said!"

"Oh, really? Well, what would _you_ say?"

I take a moment, as he starts the car and pulls away, to really look at him. But when I reply it's not just his looks I'm referring to.

"Yes, alright, you _are_ a catch."

_**.HSM.**_

So Troy and I spent the evening with Sharpay and Ryan, who as my two best friends, had suggested they meet us for dinner and drinks, and to 'make sure I'm okay'.

Luckily they both immediately got on board with the 'I don't want to talk about it today' thing. So we all stuffed our faces, gossiped and got hideously drunk.

Well, okay. Shar and I got hideously drunk; while Troy was happy to be designated driver (God, I love him) and Ryan just sat there laughing at us. Some things will never change...

By the time Troy and I got back to his flat, I felt it to be a small miracle that I'd managed to walk up the stairs unaided.

And then I banged my shoulder on the doorframe.

"Arrrgh!"

You see now, soberly I would probably have been able to suppress the urge to scream out in pain. But I wasn't sober...

Before I could pass it off as a mildly clumsy moment, Troy had noticed me rubbing my shoulder and helped me to the sofa to sit down.

"You alright? You must have really whacked it hard..." He was gently rolling my cardigan down to check the spot I'd hit when he stopped mid-sentence with a gasp.

"Gabi, your shoulder is _purple_! They _both_ are! Was this _him_, from last night? Why didn't you say anything before?"

As I've pointed out already, I was far beyond drunk – lying wasn't going to work for me.

"I was trying...I was trying to forget about it," I answered quietly. The truth was that, even though I knew they _must_ have been bruised due to the pain, I hadn't wanted to look.

Troy looked like he wanted to give me a lecture, but then his face softened. "Oh Gab...come here," he said instead, careful not to aggravate my shoulders as he pulled me into his arms.

It was around this time my head started to pound; the high of the alcohol wore off considerably, and I just felt like crap. Troy got up to get me a glass of water.

...which I promptly dropped and spilled all over his carpet.

You see? _See? _I'm a disaster!

"I'm so sorry! God, maybe I should just go home, I'm embarrassing myself."

Troy picked up the glass – which was at least still intact – put it on the table, and ignored the puddle of water expanding on his lovely clean carpet.

"Gabi, it doesn't matter! It doesn't matter to me how many clumsy moments you have per day; and you certainly don't have to be brave and pretend you're fine when you're clearly not."

He sounded stern, and yet also strangely sexy; so I just sat there and listened.

"When I said I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life looking after you, I meant it – you're one of a kind. How can I possibly get fed up, when life with you will never be boring?"

There was this voice in the back of my head going, _he really means it, Gabi, so stop doubting the poor guy._

"And do you know something else?" Troy asked as I tried to keep myself from swaying from being so light-headed. I did, however, shake my head at him without making myself feel sick.

"If it takes the rest of our lives together, I _will_ find a way to get you to believe in yourself, Gabriella Montez. You probably won't remember this speech in the morning, and that's okay, because I've probably embarrassed _myself..._but hopefully you _will_ remember that I love you, just as you are."

But do you know what? It's the morning, and I do remember. Everything.

In fact, I've been lying awake in bed going over the words for long enough now...

I think it's time to turn over and kiss him awake.


	21. Epilogue: The Shock Factor

**So here we are...the epilogue and the final chapter of The Single Girl! I just want to say a big thank you for sticking with this story when updates have been SO far apart – I've been writing this story by improvising as I went along in between being unwell, and the reviews I've had from you guys have been lovely. I hope you all enjoy this last instalment. Thanks again :) **

"So, what time are we...oh, hang on a minute. _Arghh!_" I leave poor Troy hanging on the phone as I drop one of my heels and it hits me right on the toe.

This is what happens when I rush...

"Gabi? You okay?"

Ouch! No...

"Erm, yeah, just about," I say warily as I press the phone back to my ear.

But I can't fool him. "What happened?" Troy asks, half concerned and half, as I expect, knowingly.

"Okay, I dropped a shoe on my foot..."

I can tell he's trying not to laugh at my typical Gabi-style mishap. "Can you still walk?" he asks instead.

I burst out laughing. "Yes, Troy, of course I can _walk_! Believe me, you'd know if I couldn't because you'd hear the screams all the way from the office – no phone necessary."

He chuckles now, and I leave my favourite heels where they are and sit down, thinking, _six months on and he still doesn't care that I'm a walking disaster. I'm so bloody lucky!_

"Good, because you can't miss your own party! I'd have carried you there if it came to it," he announces jokingly – but somehow I'm sure he really means it.

We arrange for him to pick me up later so we can head over to my parents' house, where – get this – they're throwing me an (apparently) huge 30th birthday party!

A party that I'm not supposed to know about...

I know, I'm know, I'm terrible. It turns out my parents had been plotting about tonight for a while with Troy, and I clicked that something was going on a few weeks ago. He was spending so much time with my father, having what he claimed were 'office meetings', and I'll admit, I got a tad worried after hearing that.

Because it's one of the standard answers when you're really seeing someone else, isn't it? I didn't argue with or accuse him, though (thank God!) but when I anxiously rambled on about it to Sharpay, she ended up spilling the beans.

I could have brushed it all under the carpet, but because Troy knows me so well, I knew he would guess something was up with me. So I confessed to my stupid doubts and apologised incessantly for ever thinking that he might have found another woman.

I thought he'd be upset and disappointed that I'd ruined his carefully planned surprise for me. But, strangely, he wasn't. Although I did get a (frankly, very sexy) stern lecture from him reminding me that I was stuck with him for life.

I may have been dumped by an arsehole in favour of another girl before, Troy said; but _this _is for keeps and he only wished he'd been better at being discreet about the party.

Speaking of said arsehole – the ex-husband was charged with harassment and assault after we told the police about how violent he'd been that night, and showed them my bruises. As well as all that, there was everything he and Tim had been up to concerning Dad's business.

So now both men are serving time for what they've done. And Sophie and I were eventually able to help each other get over all the drama of those past few weeks. Of course, I've been lucky to have Troy here to support me as well.

But anyway, back to tonight...

You know when you're at work and the time just drags, and all you want is for the day to end so you can go home or go out? And then there's nights like this, when you could do with all the time in the world to get ready; but before you know it, it's time to leave.

Luckily I'm just about ready as Troy lets himself into the flat and calls out for me. We exchanged keys about a month and half ago – sometimes I wonder whether we might already have been living together, were it not for my lease still having a few months left.

"Hey, I'm in here!" I shout as I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, applying a final coat of lipstick.

"Wow..." is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he sees me. I look up and smile a bit awkwardly. It's still a little hard to fathom when Troy looks at me like that. Like I'm the only woman on the planet.

I mean, I know this is an expensive dress, but still. I'm only me...

"Wow yourself," I reply, taking in just how gorgeous he looks in his suit.

He winks back, and I giggle as he walks over and plants a soft, lingering kiss on my lips as a proper greeting. "You look absolutely gorgeous, birthday girl."

I groan only half-jokingly, although I remain cuddled up against his chest. "Hey, I'm not thirty yet, not until midnight – and by then I'll be officially too old for you to call me a girl."

I'm not really as bothered about the big 3-0 as I like to make out. Six months ago, if I was still hopelessly single, I'm sure I'd be in hiding right now – and a party would have been the worst possible present in the world for me.

But somehow, with Troy next to me, the idea of mingling at a gathering at my parents' house isn't quite so awful. Then again, this time the gathering is for _me_.

He chuckles at my response, and smirks as I pick up my bag and have one last look at my face in the mirror. "Right then, in that case – are you ready to go, Miss Twenty-Nine?"

_**.HSM.**_

What a night. Just...what a night.

If I'm thinking my 30th birthday party over in chronological order, then let me just take a moment to say that my parents were really fantastic tonight – both of them.

I'm not referring to the posh grandness of the party – it wouldn't have mattered to me if they'd simply put on a buffet of crisps and sausage rolls instead. But of course, they did their usual thing and hired caterers. But as I said, it wasn't _that_ that got me emotional for the first time that night. It was the way my mum and dad actively circulated with all my friends, making a full effort to get to know the important people in my life.

Ever since I told them the truth about how my marriage ended - and then my father correctly predicted the scary late-night attack – they've done their very best to improve things between us. It took another proper, three-way heart-to-heart to get us on the right track, but so far, so good.

So anyway, as Troy and I stood on the doorstep and waited to be let inside, I quickly leaned toward him. "What do you think? Can I pull off the 'genuinely surprised' face?" I asked, trying to arrange my expression accordingly.

But before he could answer, my mother opened the door and ushered us in. "Gabi, Troy, what a surprise!" was her overly-merry greeting. This left me wondering what exactly the cover story was supposed to be, had we turned up here with me none the wiser over the party.

"Um, hi, Mum," I replied, managing to show the confusion that must have given the desired impression - that I was completely clueless about what was going on.

"Why don't you come through? Your father is just through here," she chatted on as we hung up our coats.

I stole a glance at Troy and tried very hard not to let out a giggle. My mother then led us through to the dining room, where the table had been removed and instead a couple of waiters were circling the room offering drinks, and food from platters. And not just any old food. All my favourite nibbles!

Oh, and even better than that? The cluster of people who shouted 'surprise' the moment I entered the room. I knew every person there – for once my parents hadn't gone over the top on the guest list or invited people I barely knew. And yet there were plenty of people.

All my friends, plus a few family members I hadn't seen in a while; and everyone I knew well from Dad's company.

This was the type of mingling I was _very_ happy to do.

After doing my "I had _no_ idea...Troy, did _you_ know about all this?" routine, I took him around the room to introduce him to my cousins, an auntie and uncle, and lastly my grandmother.

Then we headed over to Sharpay, who was standing with her new boyfriend Alex (seems nice, but she says it's too early to tell if he's a keeper yet) and Ryan.

"Very well done on the fake-shock, Gabs," she winked at me.

"What, you _knew_?!" Ryan squeaked, looking a bit put out. "God, do you know how hard I worked on the decorations?"

Troy and I made a point of looking around the room, and both came to the same conclusion. "What decorations?"

"Well, alright, so all the balloons popped before everyone got here, but still!"

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics, then spotted Dani and her husband Andy on their own just across from us. They saw me too, and came bounding over.

"Hey Gabi! It's so good to see you – I've missed you!" she said, giving me a hug. "I'm definitely going to come and see you girls this week though, I promise," she adds, referring to the salon.

"That'd be great, Dani. I've missed you too," I grinned. "Hi, Andy."

They greeted everyone properly as she rubbed her stomach affectionately.

She went on early maternity leave a few weeks back, which is why we haven't really seen each other. While they were thrilled to discover they were expecting a baby, it hasn't been the easiest pregnancy, so she was forced to slow down and stop working earlier than originally planned.

This meant that Dani then decided to leave the salon in what she referred to as my 'capable hands'. I almost laughed, but realised just in time that she was being completely serious.

So far, though, things are going relatively smoothly. We'll just see how long that lasts. Given that Dani wants to visit us soon, I'll be the first to bet that everything that _can_ go wrong, _will_ go wrong on this day.

Just as Andy and Troy – who hit it off from the moment they met – got engrossed in a serious football discussion with Shar's date, Dani and I spotted another friend heading towards us.

"Hi, Soph!"

"Well well, look who got herself a babysitter," Sharpay teased as Sophie rolled her eyes.

I had introduced her to all my friends after managing to persuade her to come over for a girls' night in a few months back. She'd brought baby Daisy with her, and the routine stuck each time she joined us from then on.

Not that anyone minded. Actually, being around the baby made us all broody – and evidently Dani was already past that stage!

"Yes, well – I fancied a few drinks," Sophie replied with a smile, giving me a hug. "Happy birthday, Gabi!"

"Speaking of which – where's _your_ drink?" Shar asked, suddenly noticing that I was the only one without a glass.

"Oh, well I was too busy trying to be suitably surprised to make a beeline for the drinks – first time for everything, eh?"

"Ladies," Troy's voice jolted us from our conversation, and I turned to see that he had abandoned the guys to approach us. "Do you mind if I steal the guest of honour for a little while?"

The others simply nodded casually, while I just looked at him in mild confusion. I could only guess that maybe he was choosing this very random moment to give me my birthday present.

Troy took my hand and led me all the way out of the dining room, then walked us through the house until we reached the back door.

"What on earth...?" My question drowned itself out as I followed him outside and into my parents' very large garden. The patio light was on, and I could see something small and black sitting on the bench just a few feet away from us.

It was a little square box.

And for some reason, I just had to ask...

"What's that?"

Troy chuckled softly, his gorgeous blue eyes sparkling (I know it sounds cliché, but it's true) in the light. "Why don't you have a look," he suggested, letting go of my hand so I could walk over to the bench and sit down.

Okay, just before I go any further – you know those moments when something's about to happen, and you're well aware of how potentially amazing it's going to be? When you feel like it must be a very vivid dream...only it's not.

Well, that's exactly how I felt right then, as I picked up the box and sucked in a deep breath before opening it.

Inside was a delicate gold ring with a single beautiful diamond on top. It was a ring that I hadn't seen since I was a little girl.

My great-grandmother's engagement ring.

It had been a tradition in our family to pass the ring from generation to generation. So when my parents got engaged, dad gave the ring to my mum. I'd very naïvely hoped that it would be passed on to me when Matt and I decided to get married aged eighteen. Now I'm glad it wasn't.

I stared tearfully at the family heirloom for another minute before I turned my head; only to find that Troy had moved and was now kneeling on the ground before me, on bended knee.

"I was all set to go out and buy a ring, but then I went to see your mum and dad, and he handed this to me as soon as he heard what I was planning to do. Your mother said," he continued as he gently took the box from me and removed the ring from it. "That this ring meant an awful lot to you, and that it was the only one I should possibly give you."

I wiped at my eyes, speechlessly waiting for Troy to say more.

"I was going to say all this in the morning - just me and you alone on your _actual_ birthday. But I've had this with me for weeks and I just couldn't wait any longer..."

The anticipation of what I knew he was about to ask was almost too much for me. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from shouting out 'yes!' before the big moment came.

"Gabi," he started, sounding nervous all of a sudden. Although how he couldn't see how ecstatic I was already was _completely_ beyond me.

"The very first time I saw you, you were getting on my bus. You were out of breath and looked distracted, and I wished I could've asked you what was wrong. The second time, I knocked on the door of the flat above me in my new building, and there you were again – wearing a _very_ flattering pink dressing gown and hair curlers, I might add."

I let out an embarrassing high-pitched giggle as I remembered opening the door to Troy that night. Then I thought of the next time I'd spoken with him, and I inwardly cringed.

Was he going to bring that up, too?

"And the third time I met you, you'd just fallen down the stairs."

Ah, so he went there. Lovely...

"D'you know," he continued almost matter-of-factly, picking up my hand and linking it with his as he stayed in position.

How was he _doing_ that?! I was starting to get concerned over his poor knee, but at the same time I wondered what on earth was coming next.

"I'd never been bothered about finding someone, falling in love and getting married. But talking to you that day made me do a complete U-turn in my head."

For the first time since I'd clapped eyes on the ring, I found my voice again.

"Why?" I asked shakily.

Troy grinned then. "Because you're one of a kind, Gabriella Montez – and you don't even know it. You're brave, you're beautiful, you make me laugh...you're my best friend."

Although I wasn't making a sound so as not to miss a single word of his speech, I was crying so much by now that the tears were making my eyes blurry. I wiped them with the back of my hand just as he held up the ring.

"So, I was just wondering...will you marry me?"

A loud sob came out instead of the big fat 'yes!' I'd rather have answered with; but I think he knew my reply when I managed to nod my head at him.

Troy finally stood up (with what I assumed must have been a _very_ numb knee – I forgot to ask) and at that I threw myself into his arms.

We stayed like that for another full minute until I pulled away and told him, just to make it totally clear and official: "Yes; yes and, just in case you didn't hear me properly with all the crying...yes again!"

"Why _are_ you crying?" he asked teasingly.

"Because you want to marry me!" I replied in much the same way as I had when he told me he loved me for the first time.

He laughed, and then kissed me before gently putting my great-grandma's ring on my finger. Then he looked at me and smiled like this was the happiest moment in his entire life.

It's certainly made the top of _my_ list. Six months ago I could only dream of a proposal like that. And now I understood why Troy wasn't particularly bothered that I'd found out about the party – he'd already had another surprise up his sleeve.

"Oh, and one more thing - I love you," he added, chuckling at himself. "I think I forgot to mention that, but hopefully it came across in everything I said..."

"You did brilliantly, Troy. So much so that you might have to deal with a very over-emotional Gabi for the rest of the night, though," I told him. "And by the way, I love you too."

And this time _I_ stretched up to kiss _him_. "Come on, let's get back to your party – it's getting cold!" he said, taking my hand to lead me back the way we'd come out.

But before we could let ourselves in, the door was opened for us and we were ushered inside. It was, of course, my mother.

"Well?" she blurted out loudly.

I hid the hand the ring was sitting on and tried to behave casually. This would probably have worked better had my face not been covered in tear stains – as I would later find out when I looked in the bathroom mirror.

"Well what, Mum?" I asked. I deliberately stopped myself from glancing at Troy so I wouldn't lose it and start giggling.

"Oh don't give me that, young lady..."

Ooh, young lady? I quite like that. Makes me forget my real age...

"Mother," I said evenly. "Were you eavesdropping, by any chance?"

She actually looked like she was about to deny it, and I heard Troy stifle a laugh just as my father walked in.

"Oh for goodness' sake, Maria - I _told_ you not to go eavesdropping!" he sighed as he surveyed the scene. "I told you, just because the lad took her away for a private moment, doesn't necessarily mean that he..."

Dad stopped mid-sentence when he spotted our faces. It must have been obvious what had just happened.

"Well, then?" he finally asked, and I revealed my hand from behind my back.

And I think my mother's shriek of delight could be heard all the way from space...

Ah, enough daydreaming...here comes my new fiancé with the birthday breakfast in bed he promised me.

What he doesn't realise is that he's not the only one who's been planning a surprise.

I had no idea Troy was going to propose last night; but the fact that he did it without the first clue of my big news made it even more special. I found out a couple of days ago, and it was always my plan to tell him today.

"Hey, birthday girl," he says now as he comes in with a tray of food. "Er, by the way...I found the milk in the cupboard and the bread in the fridge. Any particular reason why?"

Hmm, that's a new one...

"Oh really? Well, I can't remember doing it, but let's just call it...baby brain," I reply once he's put the tray down safely.

"Whaaaa...?!" he exclaims, and he's so stunned that it takes him a good few minutes to fully process the information.

"Gabi?" he asks as I sit back and sip my orange juice. "Are you...?"

I put the glass down on the side and grin at him. "Yes, I'm pregnant."

It was so hard to keep this a secret until today; but I wanted to guarantee a perfect memory on the day I turned the big 3-0. I'm especially proud of how I managed to dodge the alcohol last night without anyone guessing why!

Anyway, Troy's verbal reaction can be summarised as this: "...!"

His face is an absolute picture - I wish I had a camera handy. I wonder what he'll say when I tell him the name I have picked out if the baby is a girl. Lauren, after his sister. But I'm going to wait until I'm a bit further along before I mention it.

"So, how do you feel?" I ask as he sits down on the bed, presses a long, lingering kiss on my lips and pulls me towards him.

"You've just made me the happiest man alive twice over in the last twelve hours!" he announces. "You know what?" he adds, gesturing towards my breakfast. "Sod tea and toast, I'm taking you _out_ for breakfast!"

And so, fifteen minutes later (record timing on my part) we're up and ready to leave my flat.

As we walk downstairs hand in hand, in our own little bubble of happiness (and I don't care if it sounds soppy), Troy suddenly turns to me and stops walking.

"Hang on - have you got your keys?"

Oh, bloody hell...

_**~ The End ~**_


End file.
